IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


I 


Li  121    12.5 
itt  fM   12.2 

St  U&   12.0 


■IMU 


1.25  1 1.4 


il.6 


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FholDgraphic 

Sciences 

Carporation 


n  WIST  MAM  STUIT 

WIUTI1I,N.Y.  149t0 
{7I«)  •72.4509 


r  I 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microficlies. 


Canadian  Imtltuta  for  HIatorloal  Mlcroraproductlont  /  InatHut  Canadian  da  microraproduotlona  hiatoflquaa 


;V 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notaa/Notaa  tcehniquat  at  bibliographiquaa 


Tl! 

to 


Tha  Inatituta  haa  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographically  unlqua, 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
raproduction,  or  which  may  aignificantly  changa 
tha  usual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackad  balow. 


m 


D 


D 


D 


Colourad  covers/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


I     I   Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagte 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurAe  at/ou  palliculte 


r~|   Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  menque 


□   Coloured  maps/ 
Cartes  gAographiques  en  couleur 

□   Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

□   Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

□   Bound  with  other  material/ 
RelM  avac  d'autrea  documanta 


D 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadowa  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

Lareliure  serr6e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
diatortion  le  long  de  la  ms^ga  IntAriaure 

Blank  leavea  added  during  reatoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  poaaibia,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
11  aa  peut  que  certaines  pagea  bianchea  ajoutias 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaiaaant  dana  le  texte, 
mala,  loraque  cela  Atait  poaaibia,  caa  pages  n'ont 
pea  tt^  fiimtes. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmentairaa; 


L'inathut  a  microfilm^  la  mellleur  exemplaira 
qu'il  lui  a  Ati  poaaibia  de  se  procurer.  Les  dAtails 
da  cat  exemplaira  qui  aont  paut-itre  uniquea  du 
point  de  vue  bibltographiqua,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mithoda  normale  de  filmaga 
sont  indlquAs  cl-dessous. 


r~n  Coloured  pages/ 


D 


Pagea  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagtes 

Pagea  restored  and/oi 

Pagea  reataur^aa  et/ou  pelliculAea 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxet 
Pages  d^colortes,  tachettes  ou  piqutea 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  dAtachAes 

Showthrough> 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prlr 

Quality  inAgale  de  I'lmpreasion 

Includea  aupplamentary  materii 
Comprend  du  material  suppKmentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Mition  diaponibla 


I — I  Pages  damaged/ 

r~n  Pagea  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

rri  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

I     I  Pages  detached/ 

rri  Showthrough/ 

I     I  Quality  of  print  variaa/ 

nn  Includea  aupplamentary  material/ 

r~~|  Only  edition  available/ 


T* 
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of 
fill 


Oi 
bi 
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fir 

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Til 
sh 
Til 

wl 

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Pages  wholly  or  pertlally  obscured  by  errata 
alips,  tissues,  etc.,  iMve  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Lea  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obacurcies  par  un  fauiliet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  AtA  filmtes  A  nouveau  de  fapon  A 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  Item  is  filmed  at  tha  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  as:  film*  au  taux  da  r^uction  indiqu*  ei-daaaoua. 

10X  14X  1IX  22X 


28X 


30X 


^1  I  I  I  I  I  I  I  ITTT 


12X 


16X 


apx 


a4x 


2IX 


32X 


Tha  copy  film«d  hara  ha*  baan  raproducad  thanka 
to  tha  ganaroaity  of: 

D.  B.  WtMon  Ubiwfy 
Unhranity  of  Wwlam  Ontario 

Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
poaaibia  conaidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibiiity 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  icaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  apacif icationa. 


L'axampiaira  film*  fut  raprodult  grflca  A  la 
gin^roalt*  da: 

D.B.WaldonUbnry 
Unlvtnity  of  Wntam  Ontario 

Laa  imagaa  auivantaa  ont  At*  raproduitas  avac  la 
piua  grand  aoin,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
dm  la  nattatA  da  l'axampiaira  film*,  at  an 
conformity  avac  laa  conditiona  du  contrat  da 
fiimaga. 


Original  copiaa  in  printad  papar  covara  ara  f iimad 
baginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  liluatratad  Impraa- 
aion,  or  tha  bacic  covar  whan  appropriata.  A!! 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
firat  paga  with  a  printad  or  liluatratad  impraa- 
:iion,  and  anding  on  tha  iaat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  liluatratad  impraaaion. 


Tha  faat  racordad  frama  on  aach  microflcha 
ahali  contain  tha  aymbol  -^  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  V  (moaning  "END"), 
whichavar  appiias. 

Maps,  piataa.  charta,  ate.  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratios.  Thosa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraiy  inciudad  In  ona  axposura  ara  filmad 
baginning  in  the  uppar  laft  hand  cornar,  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  framas  aa 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrama  illuatrata  tha 
mathod: 


Las  axamplalras  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  an 
poplar  aat  imprimte  sont  filmte  on  comman9ant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darnlAra  paga  qui  comporto  una  fcinprainta 
d'imprasslon  ou  d'iiiustration,  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  salon  lo  cas.  Tous  las  autras  axamplalras 
originaux  sont  filmfo  an  commenpant  par  la 
pramiAra  paga  qui  comporto  una  amprainta 
d'imprasslon  ou  d'iiiustration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darnlAra  paga  qui  comporto  una  taila 
amprainta. 

Un  das  symbolas  sulvants  apparattra  sur  la 
darniAra  imaga  da  chaqua  microfiche,  salon  la 
cas:  la  symbols  — ►  signifia  "A  SUIVRE  ",  la 
symbols  ▼  signifia  "FIN". 

Las  cartas,  planchas,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
fiimAs  A  dGS  taux  da  reduction  diff^rents. 
Lorsque  ie  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  soul  clichA,  11  est  fiimA  A  partir 
da  i'angia  supirieur  g«ucl>e,  do  gauche  d  droite, 
et  do  haut  en  baa,  en  prenant  la  nombre 
d'imagea  nAcessaire.  Las  diagrammes  suivants 
iiiustrent  la  mithode. 


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2 

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5 

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Cnpyriprht,  18S5, 
by  Habprr  &  Brothebs 


September  4,  18S5 


Pnliscrlptlon  Price 
per  Yunr,  J'.'  NumtnTs,  ifl.'i 


III"' 


Eutered  at  tha  I'ost-OSce  at  New  York,  as  Second-class  Slail  Matter 


OIJ) -WORLD  QUESTIONS 


A^D 


.■:•:,>«' 


NEW-WORLD  ANSWERS 


1  ;j>;;«;?a 


BY 


DANIEL  PIDGEON,  F.G.S.,  Assoc.  Inst.  C.E. 


I  vj^!^'        Books  you  may  hold  readily  in  your  Iiatid  are  the  most  tisf/iil,  nfter  all 
''''■v^\  Dr.  Johnson 


NEW    YORK 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS 


1885 


^^^^^ma^^^mmtmim 


Utb  •  /^*^ 


•^.-^ . 


PEEFACE. 


,r 


The  United  States  of  America  are  a  great  alembic,  into  which  the 
emigrant  vessels  of  Europe  are  constantly  pouring  a  vast  quantity 
of  unknown,  doubtful,  and  even  explosive  matters;  the  raw  material 
of  the  American  people  that  is  yet  to  be. 

The  "American,"  such  as  I  would  distinguish  him,  is  a  social 
alchemist,  the  inheritor  of  a  philosopher's  stone  bequeathed  him 
by  a  pious,  free,  and  courageous  ancestry,  and  competent,  as  he  be- 
lieves, to  transmute  national  cl^racter  from  base  to  stierling  metal. 
Democracy  is  his  social  solvent,  the  common  school  his  crystallizing 
agent,  and  intelligent  freedom  the  shining  product  which  he  seeks 
in  his  laboratory.  His  arduous  task  is  to  separate  obstinacy  from 
English  courage,  superstition  from  French  thrift,  indolence  from 
Irish  shrewdness,  want  of  enterprise  from  Scandinavian  industry, 
shiftlessnessfrom  Negro  docility,  and  indifference  from  Chinese  skill 
mn^  9u  Jence. 

The  Old  World  watches  the  transmuter  closely,  regarding  his 
methods,  perhaps,  too  distrustfully,  and  criticising  his  results  too 
harshly,  but,  nevertheless;  profoundly  convinced  that  the  most  im- 
portant problem  of  the  modem  world  is  being  worked  out  under  its 
eyes  in  the  evolution  of  the  American  people. 

Shall  we  take  a  glance,  reader,  at  the  alchemist's  home  and 
labors? 


<L.    t.   t.     ji.  ^J 


\i 


CONTENTS. 


I.  Americans  and  Amkricanb 1 

II.  Nkw  England— Amsonia f 

III.  Clockland 16 

IV.  WiN8TEi>— A  Temperance  Town 26 

V.  Amono  the  Berkshire  Hills — Great  Barrinqton    ...  88 

YI.  Common  Schools — ^A  Town  Meetino 43 

YII.  PmsnsLD— Dalton — An  Industrial  Pioneer 63 

YIII.  A  Shaker  Yillaoe— Communism 63 

IX  North  Adams — ^An  Industrial  Battle — Willumstown    .  74 
X.  The  Hoosac  Tunnel — Deerfield — Holtokk    .....  84 
XI.  The  Regicide  Judges — Bird  -  Tracks— The  Higher  Edu- 
cation op  Women     .............  97 

XII.  Hartford— Silk— '* A  Creamery" >    .  104 

Xin.  The  Willimantio  Thread  Company — "Benevolbnt"  Mill- 

owning 116 

XIY.  Lowell,  Past  and  Presknt 124 

XY.  The  Factory  System 188 

XYI.  Labor,  Wages,  and  the  Tariff 144 

XYn.  Boston 166 

XYIIL  The  Hudson  River 166 

XIX.  Lakes  George  and  Champlaim 174 

XX.  Canada,  Present  and  Past 184 


\i 


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^ 


OLD-WORLD  QUESTIONS 
AND  NEW-WORLD  ANSWERS. 


COAFTEB   I. 
AMSBICAK8   AND   AMEBICANS. 

Thb  average  English  tourist  of  to-day  spends,  usually,  a  few 
weeks  in  cosmopolitan  New  York,  pays  flying  visits  to  the  Falls  of 
Niagara,  the  political  capital,  and  the  greater  cities  of  the  Union, 
but  thinks  his  trip  only  beginning  when,  turning  his  back  on  the 
Atlantic  slope,  he  joins  the  ranks  of  the  great  army  of  civilizatioa 
which  is  always  on  the  march  to  the  Far  West. 

His  chief  halts  are  made,  probably,  at  Chicago,  St.  Louis,  the  City 
of  the  Saints,  the  mining  camps  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  the 
cattle-ranches  of  their  western  flanks;  on  the  peaks  and  passes,  or  by 
the  blue  lakes,  of  the  Sierra  Nevada;  in  the  cities  of  her  silver  kings, 
or  among  the  wheat-flelds  of  Central  California  and  the  orchards 
and  vineyards  of  the  Pacific  slope.  At  length  he  reaches  the  city 
where  the  old  and  the  new  world  meet,  and,  through  the  portals  of 
the  Golden  Gate,  sees  the  sun  set  beneath  the  misty  western  horizon. 
Then  he  turns,  to  recross,  in  a  single  flight  of  seven  days'  duration^ 
three  thousand  miles  of  mountain,  desert,  river,  prairie,  cultivation^ 
and  forest.  During  all  that  time  he  passes  rude  camps,  remote 
homesteads,  farming  villages,  mushroom  towns,  and  settled  cities,  the 
homes  of  miners,  ranchmen,  pig  and  grain  growers,  lumberers,  hus- 
bandmen, and  citizens. 

Filially,  he  steps  on  board  ship  to  return,  in  the  full  belief  that  he 
has  seen  America.  And.  geographically  speaking,  this  is  true;  but, 
be  he  never  so  observant  a  man,  such  a  trip  can  teach  him  next  to 
nothing  about  the  American  people,  properly  so  called.  He  has, 
indeed,  become  acquainted  with  a  heterogeneous  population  of  Eng- 
lish, Irish,  German,  Scandina^an,  and  Itidian  birth,  to  say  nothing 
of  Negroes  and  Chinese,  whom  we  collectively  caU  Americans,  al? 


A3CERICAR8  AHD  AXBBICAHI. 


though  they  are  only  one  people  in  a  political  sense,  being  as  dis- 
tinct from  each  other,  and  from  Americans  proper,  as  if  they  or  their 
parents  had  never  left  their  native  homes.  A  time  is  coming,  though 
this  is  still  many  generations  distant,  when  these  various  races  will 
become  blended  into  one,  and  the  title  of  "  American  "  gather  a  sig- 
nificance not,  as  yet,  existing  or  even  conceivable.  Meanwhile,  it  is 
scarcely  trifling  with  the  average  English  reader  to  inquire  whom  we 
may  properly  call  Americans  and  where  they  are  to  be  found. 

The  act  of  Elizabeth  which,  three  centuries  ago,  opened  the  Bible 
for  the  first  time  to  the  English  people  was  attended  with  unex- 
pected and  stupendous  results.  By  furnishing  new  conceptions  of 
life  and  man,  it  changed  the  whole  temper  of  the  nation  and  gaN  e 
a  new  moral  impulse  to  the  people,  while  from  Bonner's  chained 
Scriptures  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  there  ultimately  sprang  not  only 
Puritan  England,  but  Republican  America.  Vainly,  after  the  dis- 
closure of  the  Hebrew  literature  had  wrought  the  Reformation,  as 
the  disclosure  of  Qreek  literature  wrought  the  renascence,  did  priest 
and  king  endeavor  to  fetter  the  national  conscience,  or  to  demand 
that  uniformity  in  religious  belief  and  jnactice  which  the  princes 
and  statesmen  of  the  seventeenth  century  considered  essential  to  the 
safety  of  society.  Vainly  were  the  Puritan  clergy  deprived,  fined, 
or  imprisoned  for  their  nonconformity:  they  had  glimpsed  the  great 
principle  of  religious  liberty  and  were  soon  to  be  in  full  view  of 
civil  ^ranchisement. 

"  Separatist "  congregations,  withdrawing  from  public  worship  on 
the  ground  that  the  existence  of  a  National  Church  was  contrary  to 
the  Word  of  God,  grew  quickly  in  number  from  tens  to  thousands, 
and  these,  when  the  hand  of  the  persecutor  fell  too  heavily,  fled  over 
sea  to  Holland.  One  such  body  of  poor  Lincolnshire  "Indepen- 
dents "  left  England  in  1607,  under  the  leadership  of  their  minister, 
Mr.  Robinson,  a  man  eminent  for  piety  and  learning,  and  took  ref- 
uge, first  in  Amsterdam  and  afterwards  at  Leyden.  To  preserve 
the  morals  of  their  youth,  endangered,  as  they  believed,  by  the  "dis- 
solute manners "  of  their  Dutch  ndghbors,  they  presently  deter- 
mined to  proceed  to  America  and  settle  under  the  general  govern- 
ment of  Virginia. 

This  colony,  "The  Old  Dominion,"  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  had 
established  itself  on  the  shore  of  Chesapeake  Bay  some  twelve  years 
before,  under  a  charter  from  James  I.,  but  its  members  generally 
were  neither  industrious  nor  energetic.  Many  of  them  were  "use- 
less gentlemen,"  bankrupts  and  pardoned  criminals,  who,  for  the 
most  part,  employed  themselves  in  looking  everywhere  for  gold  in- 
stead of  ploughing  and  sowing.  Their  leader,  Captain  John  Smith, 
a  man  of  singular  ability  and  energy,  had  implored  the  company  in 


AMSPICAVf  AND  AMIBICANS. 


England  to  send  him  out  some  honest  artisans,  "thirty  of  whom," 
he  wrote.  "  burdened  ^rith  a  family,  would  be  better  than  a  thousand 
such  as  I  have." 

The  high  character  of  the  Leyden  refugees  being  well  known,  the 
Virginia  Company  gave  a  warm  welcome  to  their  proposal;  but 
the  king,  on  being  petitioned,  refused  to  grant  them  any  public  rec- 
ognition of  religious  liberty,  although  he  promised  that  they  should 
not  be  molested  on  account  of  their  opinions,  so  long  as  they  lived 
in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  England.  In  the  result,  the  Mayfloteer, 
a  bark  of  a  hundred  and  eighty  tons,  carrying  about  one  hundred 
pilgrims,  sailed  from  Delft  in  1620,  and  dropped  her  anchor,  in  No- 
vember  of  the  same  year,  within  the  harbor  of  Cape  Cod.  It  was  the 
intention  of  the  pilgrims  to  have  landed  at  the  mouth  of  the  Hud- 
son River;  but  the  Dutch,  intending  to  plant  a  colony  of  their  own 
in  this  locality,  bribed  the  master  of  the  ship  to  make  a  more  north- 
erly landing,  and,  afterwards,  to  raise  difficulties  in  the  way  of  sail- 
ing southwards  at  that  season  of  the  year.  Finding  themselves  thus 
without  the  limits  c  f  their  patent  and  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Virginia 
Company,  the  refugees  formed  themselves,  before  landing,  into  a 
body  politic,  signing  a  common  agreement,  whereby  equal  rights 
were  accorded  to  each  member  of  the  community,  and  the  principle 
of  government  by  the  will  of  the  majority  was  affirmed. 

Familiar  as  we  now  are  with  representative  institutions,  it  seems 
strange  that  no  English  tongue  or  pen  had  previously  dared  to  as- 
sert this,  then  novel,  doctrine.  In  that  despotic  and  superstitious 
age  public  opinion  itself  gave  willing  support  to  the  monarch's 
claim  to  be  considered  the  sole  fountain  of  power  and  privilege,  and 
popular  rights  were  not  as  yet  conceived  of,  except  as  grants  from 
the  crown.  But  the  minds  of  the  Leyden  pilgrims  had  so  long 
been  saturated  with  the  ideas  of  primitive  Christianity  derived  from 
Elizabeth's  open  Bibles,  and  their  consciences  werd  so  purified  by 
the  practical  application  of  religion  to  the  daily  conduct  of  life, 
that,  pushed  by  the  force  of  the  circumstances  in  which  they  found 
themselves,  they  easily  discovered  a  truth  in  the  science  of  government 
to  which  preceding  centuries  had  been  entirely  blind.  "Thus,  on 
the  bleak  shore  of  a  barren  wilderness,  in  the  midst  of  desolation, 
with  the  blast  of  winter  howling  around  them  and  surrounded  with 
dangers  in  their  most  awful  and  appalling  forms,  the  pilgrims  of 
Leyden  laid  the  foundation  of  American  liberty." 

But  what,  it  may  be  asked,  have  these  commonplaces  of  history 
to  do  with  the  question,  "  Who  are  the  Americans  ?"  Well,  we  have 
at  least  reminded  ourselves  that  the  settlement  of  New  England  was 
made  by  men  who  were  pre-eminently  English  in  their  love  of  civil 
and  religious  freedom,  and  another  glance  into  the  past  will  show 
that,  from  the  momrat  of  its  establidonent,  the  Engliah  Puritans  re- 


AMBBICANS  AND  AMEBICANS. 


garded  Plymouth  in  North  America  as  their  true  home.  In  the 
course  of  a  few  years,  band  after  band  of  religious  fugitives  crossed 
the  Atlantic,  escaping  from  a  persecution  less  rigorous,  indeed, 
than  that  which  drove  the  Separatists  from  their  native  land,  but 
urgmg  them,  equally  with  their  predecessors,  to  seek  religious  liber- 
ty abroad. 

Thus,  in  the  summecof  1629,  there  came  sailing  into  what  is  now 
Salem  Harbor  five  vessels,  one  of  which  was  the  Mayflower  herself, 
bringing  two  hundred  Puritan  emigrants,  and,  in  the  next  year, 
came  Governor  Winthrop,  with  eight  hundred  more.  As  the  king's 
tyranny  and  Laud's  intolerance  grew  the  refugees  increased  from 
hundreds  to  thousands.  Nor  were  they  adventurers,  bankrupts, 
and  criminals,  like  the  earlier  colonists  of  the  South;  but  always 
respectable,  often  highly  educated,  and  sometimes  rich  men.  They 
had  powerful  friends  in  England,  a  charter  from  the  king,  securing 
them  in  the  right  to  govern  themselves  as  they  pleased,  so  long  as 
they  did  nothing  to  contravene  English  law,  and  both  Winthrop's 
and  succeeding  expeditions  came  well  prcvided  with  supplies  of  all 
kinds,  including  cattle  and  sheep,  of  which  the  pilgrims  had  none. 
Such  were  the  settlers  of  the  Massachusetts  Bay  colony,  the  founders 
of  Trimountain,  afterwards  oalled  Boston,  of  Salem,  Roxbury,  Dor- 
chester, Watertown,  and  other  places  now  flourishing  cities  and  towns. 

But,  although  strong  and  rich,  the  new  colonists  suffered  almost 
as  much  in  their  earlier  efforts  to  subdue  the  wilderness  for  the  use 
of  man  as  did  the  pilgrims  themselves;  while,  save  in  their  kindlier 
feeling  towards  the  mother  country,  the  Puritans  differed  but  little 
from  the  Plymouth  settlers  in  opinions  or  mode  of  life.  Hence, 
though  for  many  years*  the  two  colonies  were  entirely  separate,  they 
presently  began  to  gravitate  together,  and  before  the  close  of  the 
century  had  become  imited  under  the  name  of  the  colony  of  Mas- 
sachusetts, the  "  Country  of  Blue  Hills." 

Thereafter,  for  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  years,  these  English- 
men of  Englishmen  remained-  without  any  accession  to  their  num- 
bers, except  from  men  of  their  own  race  and  religion.  During  all  this 
time  they  toiled  unceasingly,  and  as  one  man,  at  the  almost  desperate 
task  of  clearing,  road-making,  and  building;  while,  at  the  same  time, 
they  created  a  society  and  form  of  government  which,  monarchy 
and  aristocracy  aside,  was  intensely  English  in  its  customs,  habits, 
and  laws.  No  circumstances  can  be  conceived  of  more  favorable 
to  the  production  of  a  powerful  and  distinctive  type  of  national  char- 
acter, a  character  whose  high  qualities  were  to  be  displayed  later  in 
the  heroic  acts  of  the  Revolution,  the  establishment  of  the  republic, 
and  the  enthronement  of  freedom. 

Now,  it  is  within  the  memory  of  living  men  that  this  people,  such 
as  I  <vould  distinguish  them,  have  begun  to  receive  any  admixture 


t 


AHEBICAITB  AND  AMERICANS.  0 

of  Other  than  English  blood.  Fifty  years  ago  the  great  wave  of 
European  emigration,  which,  to-day,  throws  annually  more  than  a 
million  of  souls  on  the  American  shore,  had  scarcely  begun  to  rise. 
At  that  time  there  was  hardly  a  name  in  New  England  which  was 
not  English,  and  its  people  were,  perhaps,  more  typical  Anglo-Saxons 
than  those  of  the  mother  country  itself.  Of  intermixture  between 
the  settlers  and  Indians  there  was  practically  none,  the  English 
aversion  to  cross  with  aboriginal  races  being,  in  this  instance,  ac- 
cented both  by  the  prohibitions  of  religion  and  the  hostility  of  the 
native  tribes.  The  "  Americans,"  indeed,  as  writers  not  a  hundred 
years  old  rightly  designated  the  redskins,  were  pushed  back  before 
the  advance  of  a  new  nation,  English  in  its  origin,  language,  and 
laws,  but,  above  all,  English  iu  its  devotion  to  the  Bible. 

The  one  home  of  this  people  was,  for  generations.  New  England; 
but  they  have  spread,  with  the  development  of  America,  over  the 
whole  continent,  being  everywhere  the  leaders  of  enterprise  and 
shapers  of  the  forms  under  which  civilization  has  manifested  itself  in 
every  state,  territory,  and  township  of  the  Union.  The  heterogene- 
ous hordes  now  in  process  of  occupying  the  public  domain  of  America 
are  not  as  yet  Americans.  It  is  the  sons  of  New  England,  the  descend- 
ants of  the  Puritan  emigrants,  whose  principles  and  characters  have 
been  formed  by  the  social  and  political  influences  created  by  their 
"^  forefathers,  who  aloce  can  be  called  Americans.    To  them  must  be 

added  the  Quaker  colonists  of  Pennsylvania,  the  form  of  whose  in- 
stitutions, whether  religious  or  political,  was  largely  determined  by 
the  example  of  their  Puritan  predecessors. 

The  future  of  the  American  people  is  the  greatest  question  of  the 
modem  world,  and  it  is  because  this  vast  trust  is  in  the  hands  of  men  of 
English  blood  that  intelligent  Englishmen  take  an  interest  which  is 
quite  unique  in  American  travel.  If  the  tourist  in  the  States  is,  at  first, 
most  strongly  attracted  towards  the  strange  life,  peculiar  scenery,  or 
new  sport  of  the  West,  he  presently  finds  himself  considering,  with 
at  least  equal  interest,  the  social  and  industrial  problems  of  the  East. 
No  peak  or  cafion  of  the  Sierras,  indeed,  no  stretch  of  sunlit,  sea- 
like plain,  no  forest  of  giant  pines,  no  mountain  mining-camp,  of- 
fers to  the  Englishman  in  America  objects  of  such  ilitcrest  as  may 
be  found  in  New  England's  rocky  valleys,  whose  swift  streams  turn 
a  thousand  mills,  and  whose  prosperous  towns,  happy  homes,  and 
bright  people  suggest  many  a  grave  question  to  the  least  thoughtful 
Briton. 

F04  the  average  man,  with  time  on  his  hands,  money  in  his  pocket, 
and  the  great  continent  of  America  open  before  him,  a  summer 
ramble  through  the  manufacturing  districts  of  New  England  is 
scarcely  a  tempting  holiday  programme.  Most  people,  indeed,  pre- 
fer to  visit  workshops  and  workmen  vicariously,  care  nothing  for 


mm 


V  AMBBICAXrS  AND  AMBRICAKS. 

the  companionship  and  conversation  of  labor,  and  readily  delegate  to 
volunteers  the  distasteful  details  of  inquiry  into  industrial  questions. 
All  such  sensible  sybarites  I  invite  to  accompany  me  on  a  short 
flight  through  the  roaring  valleys  of  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut 
promisfaig  that  no  one  shall  touch  pitch  in  the  course  of  the  trip 
while  we  will  linger  long  enough,  on  our  honjeward  way,  whether 
by  the  brown  Hudson,  blue  Lake  George,  or  the  sea-green  St. 
Lawrence,  to  wash  the  dust  of  the  mills  from  the  minds  of  over^ 
sensitive  readers. 


Chapter  II. 

KBW  ENOLAKD— AKBONIA. 

Captain  John  Smith,  the  remarkable  man  viho,  as  we  have 
seen,  directed  the  early  operations  of  the  Virginia  Company,  was, 
among  other  things,  a  daring  navigator.  He  made  expeditions,  at 
various  times,  along  the  coast  as  far  as  Maine,  and  gave  the  name  of 
Plymouth  to  the  spot  where  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  landed,  many  years 
before  that  event  took  place.  It  was  he,  indeed,  who  first  called 
this  part  of  America  "  New  England,"  a  title  subsequently  adopted 
in  the  patent  of  James,  which  created^  a  council  "for  the  planting, 
ordering,  and  governing  of  New  England." 

Of  the  six  states  now  comprised  under  this  designation,  Massa- 
chusetts-was the  first  to  be  settled  by  the  Puritan  refugees.  Maine 
was  long  a  mere  hunting-ground,  and  remained  practically  a  part 
of  Massachusetts  until  after  the  Revolution.  The  earliest  settlers  of 
New  Hampshire  were  fishermen,  who,  being  once  rebuked  by  a 
travelling  minister  for  their  neglect  of  religion,  said,  "  Sir,  you  are 
mistaken;  you  think  you  are  speaking  to  the  people  of  Massachu- 
setts Bay.  Our  main  object  in  coming  here  was  to  catch  fish." 
Vermont  was  first  explored  by  Champlain,  the  great  Frenchman 
who  founded  Quebec,  but  had  no  settlers  till  early  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  and  was  not  recognized  as  a  separate  colony  before 
the  Revolution.  Rhode  Island  was  founded  by  a  young  Baptist 
minister,  named  Roger  Williams,  who  fled  there  in  1636  to  escape 
persecution  at  the  hands  of  the  Puritans,  who,  if  themselves  relig- 
ious refugees,  had  little  toleration  for  any  but  their  own  fonns  of  be- 
lief. (Jonnecticut  was  settled  by  the  English  and  Dutch  simultane- 
ously, but  the  former  were  the  first  to  reach  and  cultivate  the  rich 
valley  of  the  Connecticut  river. 

New  England,  although  two  fifths  larger  than  Old  England,  con- 
tains only  four  millions  of  inhabitants,  or  less  than  a  hundred  and 
twenty  persons  to  the  square  mile,  the  population  being  most  close- 
ly aggregated  in  the  manufacturing  states  of  Massachusetts,  Rhode 
Island,  and  Connecticut,  where  the  people  number  two  hundred  to 
the  square  mile.  The  western  half  of  the  country  is  occupied  by 
several  parallel  ranges  of  mountains,  the  most  easterly  undulations 
of  the  Alleghany  chain,  which  run  almost  north  and  south,  and  rise 


8 


NEW  BNOLAKD— AN80KIA. 


like  waves  of  gradually  increasing  height  from  the  Atlantic  slope. 
The  last  stretches  from  the  hills  to  the  ocean,  and  is  a  region  of 
plains,  low  hills,  and  well-watered  valleys,  thickly  settled,  well  cul- 
tivated, and  the  site  of  all  the  chief  towns  and  cities  of  the  Eastern 
States. 

The  western  valleys  of  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut  are  the 
homcB,  par  excellence,  of  American  manufacturing  industry.  Carry- 
ing swift  and  important  streams  to  the  sea,  they  thus,  in  the  first 
place,  invited  settlers  to  their  banks,  and  most  of  these  river-courses 
are  now  dammed  at  short  intervals,  while  around  the  dams  there 
cluster  factories,  mills,  and' the  homes  of  labor.  These  are,  for  the 
most  part,  hemmed  in  by  high,  forest-covered  hills,  sometimes  rising 
two  or  three  thousand  feet  above  sea-level,  and  are  reached  by  rail- 
ways which  stretch  from  the  seaboard  into  every  valley  boasting  a 
mill-stream. 

The  Housatonic,  one  of  the  most  important  of  these  industrial 
rivers,  flows  for  a  hundred  miles  of  its  course  between  the  pictur- 
esque wooded  flanks  of  the  Green  Mountain  and  Taconic  ranges, 
before  debouching  into  the  Sound.  Its  tributary,  the  Naugatuck, 
runs  almost  parallel  with  the  larger  stream  for  the  greater  part  of 
its  course,  and  the  banks  of  both  rivers  hum  with  the  sounds  of  in- 
dustry from  one  end  to  the  other. 

It  was  a  bright  May  morning,  with  the  sky  of  Italy  and  air  more 
invigorating  than  wine,  when  we  started,  an  Anglo-American  party 
of  two,  with  the  intention  of  visiting  some  of  the  Naugatuck  and 
Housatonic  factories,  and  of  seeing  how  the  homes  of  labor  in  New 
England  differ  from  those  of  Old  England.  Leaving  New  York, 
the  railway  skirts  the  coast  and  crosses  a  seemingly  endless  succes- 
sion of  drift  beds,  plainly  of  glacial  ori^n.  The  drift  overlies  azoic 
gneisses,  huge  shoulders  of  which  rise  above  a  plain  of  arable  soil, 
just  as  islands  rise  from  a  sea.  Where  the  primitive  rock  is  very 
thinly  covered  with  earth,  there  occur  patches  of  forest  trees,  whose 
roots  scarcely  flnd  sustenance  in  the  crevices  to  which  they  cling. 
Saving  the  forest,  the  aspect  of  the  country  is  essentially  English. 
Small  fields  are  divided  from  one  another  by  walls  built  of  the 
bowlders  picked  from  the  soil.  Pretty  farmhouses  recur  at  short 
intervals,  and  snug  private  houses,  surrounded  by  well-kept  gar- 
dens, herald,  now  and  again,  our  approach  to  flourishing  towns. 

Arrived  at  Stratford,  where  the  Housatonic  debouches  into  the 
Sound,  we  strike  northwards  and  follow  the  river  to  its  junction 
with  the  Naugatuck,  through  a  country  also  of  rounded  gneissic 
hills,  which  are  deeply  buried  in  level  sheets  of  drift.  Clearings  and 
forest  alternate  for  a  time,  but  the  latter  presently  prevails.  Tiny 
brooks  of  clcrr  brown  water  wander  around  the  stems  of  the  trees 
and  among  tlie  mossy  bosses  of  rock,  while  great  tufts  of  the 


1 


ITBW  ENGLAND— AK80NIA.  9 

" skunk  cabbage  "  ( SymplocarprnfctUduB)  spring  abundantly  beside 
every  watercourse,  arresting  attention  by  their  brilliant  green  color. 
"New  England  is  a  country  of  laughing  brooks,"  said  a  travelling 
companion  once  to  Mr.  Secretary  Evarts,  who  was  as  great  a  joker 
as  he  was  a  good  lawyer.  "It  must  be  so,"  was  the  answer,  "or 
the  books  would  not  say  so  much  about '  diverting  watercourses.' " 
The  Housatonic  and  Naugatuck  join  at  Derby,  where  their  united 
streams  sweep  majestically  around  high  hills  which  are  everywhere 
covered  with  forest,  leafless  and  gray  as  yet,  but  relieved  by  occa- 
sional clumps  of  beautiful  evergreen  hemlocks.  Entering  the  Nau- 
gatuck  valley,  we  caught  sight  of  the  manufacturing  town  of  Bir- 
mingham, lying  on  the  junction  of  the  two  streams.  The  name  re- 
calls ideas  of  a  smoky  town,  with  dingy  suburbs,  overhung  by  a 
murky  sky,  but  the  view  from  our  car  windows  was  of  something 
very  dilFercnt  from  this.  A  number  of  massive  brick  buildings — 
one  scarcely  knew  in  the  distance  whether  they  were  factories  or 
c&stles— lined  the  beautiful  curve  of  the  river,  and  shone,  rosy  red, 
in  the  sunlight,  through  pearly  morning  mist.  Above  the  latter, 
which  lay  low  on  the  water,  rose  tier  upon  tier  of  gleaming  white 
houses,  the  highest  of  them  peeping  out  from  the  hillside  forest, 
while  overi\ead  was  the  blue  arch  of  an  Italian  sky. 
•  I  The  Naugatuck  river  is  a  clear  mountain  stream  of  considerable 

"x*  volume,  which,  but  for  the  intervention  of  man,  would  seek  the  sea 

ir.  a  series  of  rapids.  It  has,  however,  been  so  often  dammed  as  to 
exhibit  a  succession  of  beautiful  mountain  tarns,  whence  artificial 
canals,  called  "raceways,"  lead  to  the  various  mills.  "We  made  our 
first  halt  at  Ansonia,  the  creation  and  namesake  of  a  ]\Ir.  Anson 
Piatt,  who  dammed  the  river  at  this  spot  about  thirty  years  ago,  and 

J^  built  the  first  of  the  great  "  brass-mills  "  for  which  the  Naugatuck 

is  now  famous.  These  mills  all  originated  in  the  following  way. 
The  stream,  being  easily  controllable,  while  its  flow  of  water  is 
abundant,  offered  great  advantages  to  the  early  makers  of  wooden 
clocks,  who  may  be  called  the  pioneers  of  manufacture  in  America. 
They  established  small  water-wheels  and  modest  workshops  here  in 
considerable  numbers,  and,  by  and  by,  as  metal  came  into  use  for 
clock-making,  a  few  brass-rolling  and  wire-drawing  mills  arose  in 
the  valley.  These,  when  the  staple  trade  was  dull,  sought  an  outlet 
for  their  sheet  and  wire  by  making  pins,  lamp-fittings,  cartridges, 
ferrules,  arrow-heads,  shoe-tips,  corset  studs,"  wire  chain,  and  a 
thousand  other  trifles,  such  as  can  be  stamped  from  brass  sheet  or 
twisted  out  of  wire.  There  came  a  brief,  bright  time,  indeed,  when 
every  mill  on  the  Naugatuck  turned  its  attention  with  advantage  to 
the  making  of  "  hoop-skirts."  But  when  fashion  presently  decreed 
the  reign  of  scanty  dresses,  an  industrial  earthquake  shook  the  crin- 
oline factories  almost  to  their  foundations.    Since  then,  clocks  and 

1* 


■H 


10 


NEW  ENOLANI>— AN805IA. 


pins  have  dominated  the  district,  and,  if  I  say  nothing  of  the  former 
until  we  reach  Waterbury,  the  capital  of  dockland,  the  latter  may 
be  appropriately  sung  at  Ansonia. 

There  were  but  two  pinmakers  in  the  American  colonies  during 
revolutionary  times,  viz.,  Jeremiah  Wilkinson,  a  Rhode  Island  wire- 
drtfwer,  and  Samuel  Slocum,  also  of  Rhode  Island,  whose  patent 
machine  for  making  solid-headed  pins  was  already  working  in  Eng- 
land. At  this  time  imported  pins  sold  for  7«.  6d.  a  dozen;  so  that 
we  read  without  surprise  of  a  state  offer  of  "  £50  for  the  best  twen- 
ty-five dozen  pins  of  domestic  make,  equal  to  those  imported  from 
England."  In  188t,  Dr.  Howe,  of  New  York,  invented  a  machine 
which  made  pins  at  one  operation,  and,  a  few  years  later,  a  pinmak- 
ing  company  was  formed,  which  continued  its  operations,  under  the 
charge  of  Dr.  Howe,  until  1865. 

The  Wallace  Brass-Mill,  one  of  the  largest  concerns  in  Ansonia, 
owes  its  origin  to  the  introduction  of  the  Howe  pin-machine.  This 
has  already  created  a  demand  for  brass  wire  which  could  not  be 
met,  except  by  importation,  there  being  little  practical  skill  in  wire- 
drawing available  in  America  at  that  time,  when  Mr.  Wallace,  orig- 
inally an  English  wire-drawer,  was  found  working  at  Birmingham, 
Connecticut,  and  proved  the  man  for  the  occasion.  He  was  soon 
parsuaded  to  pitch  his  tent  at  Ansonia,  and  began  making  pin-wire 
about  twenty-five  years  ago,  with  scarcely  twenty  men  to  assist  him. 
His  mills  now  employ  seven  hundred  hands,  and,  aside  from  wire 
and  sheet,  turn  out  enormous  quantities  of  the  useful  trifles  of 
which  some  have  already  been  enumerated.  These,  like  pins,  are 
all  produced  by  extremely  clever  and  very  interesting  automatic  ma- 
chinery, which  it  seems  the  Kpecial  province  of  the  Americans,  and 
especially  of  the  Connecticut  mechanic,  to  devise. 

This  remarkable  character,  who,  more  than  any  other  person  or 
circumstance,  has  given  its  distinctive  features  to  American  manu- 
facture, is  a  figure  of  so  much  industrial  importance  that  we  cannot 
make  his  acquaintance  one  moment  too  soon.  He  is*  usually  a 
Yankee  of  Yankees  by  birth  and  of  a  temperamer.  thoughtful  to 
dreaminess.  His  natural  bent  is  strongly  towards  mechanical  pur- 
suits, and  he  finds  his  way,  very  early  in  life,  into  the  workshop. 
Impatient  of  the  fetters  which  trade  societies  forge  for  less  inde- 
pendent minds,  he  delights  to  make  his  own  bargain  with  his  em- 
ployer, and,  whatever  be  the  work  on  which  he  is  engaged,  bends 
the  whole  force  of  an  acute  but  narrow  intelligence  to  scheming 
means  for  accomplishing  it  easily.  Unlike  the  English  mechanic, 
whom  a  different  education  and  different  circumstances  have  taught 
to  believe  his  own  interest  ill  served  by  facilitating  the  operations 
of  the  workshop,  the  Connecticut  man  is  profoundly  convinced  to 
the  contrary.    He  cherishes  a  fixed  idea  of  creating  a  monopoly  in 


•   i 


NBW  BKQLAin>-^AN(K>NIA.-  It 

• 

some  branch  of  manufacture,  by  establishing  an  overwhelming  su- 
periority over  the  methods  of  production  already  existing  in  that 
branch.  To  "get  up"  a  machine,  or  series  of  machines,  for  this 
purpose,  is  his  one  aim  and  ambition.  If  ho  succeeds,  supported 
by  Intents  and  the  ready  aid  which  capital  gives  to  promising  nov- 
elty in  the  States,  he  may  revolutionize  an  industry,  forcing  oppo- 
nents who  produce  in  the  old  way  altogether  out  of  the  market, 
while  benefiting  the  consumer  and  making  his  own  fortune  at  the 
same  time. 

The  workshops  of  Massachusetts,  Rhode  Island,  and,  especially, 
of  Connecticut,  are  full  of  such  men.    Usually  tall,  thin,  reflective, 
^  and  taciturn,  but  clever  and,  above  all  things,  free,  the  equals,  al- 

^  though  mechanics,  of  the  capitalist  upon  whose  ready  alliance  they 

can  count,  they  are  an  element  of  incalculable  value  to  American 
industry.  Their  method  of  attacking  manufacturing  problems  is 
one  which,  intelligently  handled,  must  command  markets  by  simul- 
taneously improving  qualities  and  cheapening  prices.  We  ourselves 
certainly  aim,  as  they  do,  at  the  specialization  of  manufacture,  but 
one  scarcely  treads  upon  the  threshold  of  dockland  before  feeling 
how  much  more  universally  the  system  is  being  applied  in  the  States 
than  here.  Tools  and  processes  which  we  are  inclined  to  consider 
as  exceptionally  clever  are  the  commonplaces  of  American  shops, 
and  the  determination  to  do  nothing  by  hand  which  can  be  done  by 
a  machine  is  a  marked  characteristic  of  the  workmen  there,  while  it 
scarcely  exists  among  operatives  here.  The  "Connecticut  man" 
will  crop  up  again  and  again  in  the  course  of  our  trip.  He  is  an 
element  of  the  utmost  importance  in  the  industrial  development  of 
America,  a  force  of  which  we,  unfortunately,  have  no  equivalent  in 
England,  and  that  is  why  I  have  taken  the  earliest  opportunity  of 
introducing  him  to  the  reader. 

Betuming  to  pins,  it  is  really  charming,  if  I  may  use  a  word 
usually  reserved  for  descriptions  of  personal  or  natural  beauty,  to 
watch  the  pretty  little  automaton  called  a  pin-machine.  This  little 
creature  feeds  heartily,  but  without  haste,  on  a  coil  of  brass  wire, 
and,  immediately  after  taking  a  bite,  turns  one  end  of  the  pin  that 
is  to  be,  held  firmly  in  a  gripping  die,  towards  a  small  hammer, 
whose  blows  fall  too  rapidly  to  be  counted  or  even  seen.  The 
headed  shanks  next  drop,  one  by  one,  into  radial  notches  in  a  hori- 
zontal disk,  where  they  look  like  pointless  pins  stuck,  heads  inward, 
around  a  flat  pincusUon.  This  pincushion  turns  slowly  round, 
and  presents  each  projecting  shank  successively  to  the  rims  of  three 
tiny  grindstones,  revolving  at  a  very  high  speed,  which  first  form 
and  then  finely  finish  the  points.  Hour  by  hour  the  steel  jaws  ship 
the  wire,  the  hammers  beat  their  rapid  tattoo  on  the  heads,  the 
rowel  of  wire  shanks  turns  slowly  over  the  hissing  little  grindstones, 


19 


KBW  ENOLAIOH- AZTBOKIA. 


discharging  a  hundred  and  seventy  finished  pins  per  minute.  It  is 
like  watching,  through  a  microscope,  the  wheel-like  play  of  a  roti« 
fer's  cilia. 

Time  and  the  reader's  patience  would  both  fail,  did  I  attempt  to 
describe  all  the  automata  of  the  Wallace  Brass-Mill.  Here  is  a  row 
of  strange  organisms,  in  shining  nickel-plate  costumes,  nipping 
away,  like  the  pin-machine,  at  a  roll  of  brass  wire,  and  carrying  the 
pieces,  one  at  a  time,  by  means  of  fingers  as  shapely  as  those  of  a 
girl,  to  be  headed,  and  then  dropping  them,  finished  corset  studs,  as 
fast  as  one  can  count,  into  a  box.  There  is  another  group  of  wire* 
eaters,  taking  in  brass  and  turning  out  chain  at  the  rate  of  seventy 
links  a  minute,  no  one  regarding,  while  the  links  grow  from  yards 
to  miles.  Here  is  a  wonderful  automaton  which  sticks  two  thou> 
sand  pins  a  minute  into  pin-papers,  and  there  another,  which 
punches,  folds,  and  glues  together  cardboard  pin-boxes,  at  the  rate 
of  a  thousand  an  hour.  Such  is  the  character  of  the  surroundings 
among  which  the  Connecticut  man  lives,  moves,  and  has  his  being. 
Here  he  observes,  alters,  amends,  and  schemes.  These  pulsating  and 
quasi-living  beings  are  his  children  and  companions,  who  give  him 
occupation,  pleasure,  and  stimulation.  The  thousand  wants  of  the 
world  offer  him  a  boundless  field  for  his  creative  powers,  and,  si- 
lently brooding,  he  brings  forth,  now  and  again,  a  new  automaton, 
as  a  poet  produces  a  verse,  or  a  musician  a  melody. 

The  deep,  thrilling  notes  of  many  steam-whistles  having  pro* 
claimed  the  factory  dinner-hour,  we  made  our  way,  in  company 
with  a  stream  of  artisans  of  both  sexes,  to  the  "  Hodgkiss  House," 
in  se  irch  of  refreshment.  Married  operatives  in  America  usually 
live  in  their  own  houses,  while  unmarried  labor  generally  "  rooms  " 
in  tenement-houses  and  "boards"  in  establishments,  which,  while 
practically  eating-houses,  are  ostensibly  hotels.  "  Table  boarders" 
are  sometimes  called  simply  "  mealers,"  or  even,  when  a  buggy  goes 
round  to  collect  the  scattered  dientile  of  a  given  house,  "hauled 
mealers; "  but  we,  on  this  occasion,  were  "  transient  mealers." 

We  entered  a  large  dining-room,  very  clean,  well  furnished,  and 
simply  but  nicely  decorated,  set  with  small,  separate  tables,  dressed 
in  the  whitest  linen  and  attended  by  trim  girls,  who,  if  their  man- 
ners were  independent,  waited  smilingly  and  well.  No  printed  bill 
of  fare  appeared,  but  the  waitress  whispered  rapidly  in  the  ear  of 
each  guest,  "  Hash  and  tea,  pork  and  beans,  potatoes,  stringbeans, 
succotash,  pie-plant  pie,  apple  and  cranberry  pie."  A  little  puzzled, 
but  always  anxious  to  act  the  Roman  in  Rome.  I  called  for  "  Hash 
and  tea,  succotash,  and  pie-plant  pie;  "and  then  looked  around  at 
the  company.  The  room  was  crowded  with  diners  of  both  sexes, 
whose  dress,  manners,  and  speech  scarcely  distinguished  them  from 
an  average  hotel  crowd,  and,  bnmpered  as  yet  by  English  ideas,  I 


•^ 


*j 


M 


RKW  XROLANI>— AK80KIA. 


IV 


•^ 


*^^ 


had  to  ask  more  than  once  if  I  was  really  among  Amerfean  artisans. 
Before  1  could  feel  fully  assured  on  this  point,  came  my  hash  and 
tea;  I  dared  not  ask  for  beer,  for  likely  enough  Ansonia  might  be  a 
teetotal  town,  and  I  already  knew  that  American  operatives  drink 
nothing  stronger  than  ice-water,  coffee,  and  tea.  The  compound  of 
beef  and  potatoes  was  excellent,  and  "  succotash  "  proved  to  be  a 
stew  of  mixed  Indian  com  and  beans,  a  dish  which,  as  I  afterwards 
learned,  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  adopted  from  the  natives.  "  Pie-plant 
pie  "  was  a  surprise,  being  nothing  else  than  rhubarb  tart,  predes- 
tionrian  Puritanism  having  early  recognized  and  acknowledged  by 
name  the  manifest  destiny  f  this  useful  vegetable.  The  midday 
meal  was  soon  despatched,  the  orderly,  respectable  crowd  strolled 
off  to  the  various  factories,  and  we  found  ourselves,  after  a  temper- 
ate repast,  fit  for  any  amount  more  work»  while  the  day  was  as  yet 
hardly  half  spent. 

The  most  interesting  and  newest  factory  in  Ansonia  is  that  of  the 
Postal  Telegraph  Company,  where  Professor  Farmer's  patent  com- 
pound telegraph  wire  is  now  being  manufactured  on  a  very  large 
scale.  It  is  not  long  since  the  American  press  startkd  the  world  of 
science  by  announcing  that  a  telephonic  conversation  had  been  car- 
ried on  successfully  between  Chicago  and  New  York,  cities  which 
arc  more  than  a  thousand  miles  asunder,  a  distance  forty  or  fifty 
fold  greater  than  the  length  of  any  ordinary  telephone  line. 

A  telegraph  line  may  be  regarded  as  a  road,  along  which  electric 
currents  travel  from  a  battery  at  one  end  of  the  wire  to  some  form 
of  mechanism  which  is  capable  of  recording  the  passage  of  such  cur- 
rents at  the  other.  These  currents  are  never  very  powerful,  and 
sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  the  telephone,  almost  infinitely  feeble; 
so  that,  if  we  figure  them  to  our  minds  as  wheeled  carriages  in  move- 
ment, we  can  understand  that  their  motion  will  be  greatly  influenced 
by  the  comparative  roughness  or  smoothness  of  the  road  they  trav- 
erse. All  the  metals,  as  is  .^ell  known,  are  "conductors "  of  elec- 
tricity, or,  in  other  words,  offer  little  resistance  to  its  passage 
through  their  substance,  but  they  are  so  in  very  different  degrees. 
Of  the  commercial  metals,  copper  offers  scarcely  any  resistance  to 
the  passage  of  electric  currents,  but  cannot  be  advantageously  used 
for  line  wires,  because  it  bears  little  tension,  stretches  excessively, 
soon  loses  its  elasticity,  and  is  much  affected  by  temperature.  Iron 
wire,  on  the  other  hand,  being  cheap,  and  superior  to  copper  in  all 
the  points  just  enumerated,  has  come  into  universal  use  for  tele- 
graph wire,  notwithstanding  its  comparatively  high  resistance  to  the 
passage  of  electric  currents.  The  idea  of  plating  a  steel  core  with 
a  copper  skin,  and  thus  combining  the  strength  of  one  metal  with 
the  conductivity  of  the  other,  was  entertained  many  years  ago, 
hut  was  never  successfully  reduced  to  practice.    Electro-plating,  by 


14 


NB  W  XNOLAIVD— AKBOVIA. : 


means  of  batteries,  was  found  much  too  slow  and  expensive  a  proe* 
ess  for  covering  such  lengtlis  of  wire  as  were  required,  while  there 
was  not  sufficient  adhesion  between  the  deposited  copper  and  the 
steel  core  to  permit  of  the  compound  wire  being  lengthened  by  the 
process  of  "wire-drawing."  Professor  Farmer's  advance  on  what 
had  previously  been  accomplished  consists  in  employing  the  very 
powerful  currents  obtainable  from  dynamo-electric  machines,  in 
combination  with  a  simple  but  very  ingenious  plan  of  passing  coils 
of  wire  of  any  length  continuously  through  the  plating  vats. 

We  enter  a  great  one-storied  building,  some  two  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  square,  at  one  end  of  which  stand  twenty-four  large 
dynamos,  weighing  together  some  sixty  tons.  These  are  driven  by 
engines  of  six  hundred  horse-power,  and  the  resulting  current  of 
electricity  is  carried  through  thick  copper  bands  to  the  electro- 
plating  tanks.  If  one  wishes  for  a  demonstration  of  the  tremendous 
energy  which  courses  silently  through  these  conductors,  it  is  suf- 
ficient to  divert  a  very  small  portion  of  the  current  and  pass  it 
through  a  rod  of  carbon,  such  as  is  conunonly  used  in  the  electric 
lamp.  This  is  soon  made  to  glow  with  an  intense  white  heat,  and  is 
finally  deflagrated  in  a  burst  of  brilliant  flame.  When  the  factory 
has  been  once  or  twice  illuminated  by  the  lightning-like  flash  of 
this  experiment,  the  mind  recognizes  something  akin  to  the  silence 
which  heralds  a  thunder-storm  in  the  unusual  quiet  of  this  singular 
workshop. 

Two  hundred  and  fifty  wooden  troughs,  each  about  twenty  feet 
long,  constitute  the  battery  of  plating  vats.  These  are  arranged  in 
rows,  and  contain  an  electrolytic  fiuid,  as  usual  in  ordinary  electro- 
plating. Over  each  trough  a  longitudinal  spindle  turns  slowly 
round  in  bearings,  and-  from  this,  like  rings  on  a  stipk,  hang  as 
many  spires  of  a  coil  of  steel  wire  as  the  tank  will  contain.  Each 
spire  is  separated  from  its  neighbor  by  a  slip  of  glass,  while  that 
part  of  the  steel  wire  coil  which  caunot  find  room  in  the  tank  de- 
pends from  the  revolving  spindle  which  overliaugs  it  for  this  pur- 
pose. In  this  way  the  wire  is,  so  to  speak,  screwed  slowly  through 
the  electrolytic  bath,  from  which  it  issues  coated  with  a  copper 
envelope.  The  operation  is  repeated  three  times,  and  results  in  the 
deposition  of  four  thousand  pounds  of  copper  per  day  upon  eight 
miles  of  the  steel  core,  the  two  together  forming  a  conductor  rather 
less  than  a  quarter  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  weighing  seven  hundred 
pounds  to  the  mile,  and  composed  of  copper  and  steel  in  the  propor- 
tion of  five  to  two.  The  largest  wire  used  in  telegraphy  resists  the 
passage  of  the  current  with  five  times  more  energy  than  its  new 
rival,  while  it  is  nearly  twice  the  diameter,  proportionately  heavier, 
and  of  no  greater  tensional  strength  than  the  compound  wh. . 

Already  Professor  Farmer's  line  stretches  from  New  York  to 


i> 


^> 


., 


KBW  ENOLAND— ANBONIA. 


15 


Chicago,  and  will  span  the  United  States  before  these  words  are 
printed.  A  thousand  words  have  been  transmitted  a  thousand 
miles  in  one  minute,  and  ten  messages  sent  over  it  simultaneously, 
five  each  way,  for  the  same  distance.  Telephonic  conversation  has 
been  carried  on  by  its  means  between  cities  separated  by  nearly  half 
the  Continent,  and  the  men  who  listened  in  Ansonia  to  speakers  in 
Chicago  believe  that  the  whisper  of  a  human  voice  will  yet  make 
itself  heard  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacifle  shore. 


1|> 


Chapter  III. 

CLOCKLAND. 

AscENDiKO  tho  Naugatuck  valley  for  a  few  miles,  we  reached 
Waterbury,  a  town  of  twenty  thousand  inhabitants,  and  the  capital 
of  Clockland,  where,  within  a  radius  of  twenty  miles,  more  clocks 
are  made  than  in  any  other  part  of  the  world.  There  is,  indeed,  a 
hint,  in  the  scenery  of  Naugatuck,  of  that  other  watch  country, 
Hwitzerland,  whose  industrious  people  till  their  ungrateful  mountain 
farms  in  summer  and  make  watches  in  their  chalets  during  winter. 
Here  is  the  same  rough  country  and  poor  farming  land,  but  the 
people  are  congregated  in  great  factories,  where  thousands  of  clocks 
are  made  every  day,  by  means  of  beautiful  special  machinery. 

Fifty  years  ago,  a  clock  was  an  heirloom,  even  in  well-to-do 
American  families,  but  scarcely  any  home  is  without  one  to-day, 
and  this  change  has  been  brought  about  by  the  skill  and  enterprise 
of  the  Connecticut  man.  Towards  the  close  of  the  last  century  Eli 
Terry  established  himself  in  the  town  of  Plymouth,  Connecticut, 
and  began  making  wooden  clocks.  The  teeth  of  the  wheels  were 
first  described  by  a  pair  of  compasses  and  then  cut  out  with  a  hand- 
saw, while,  aside  from  a  few  pivots  and  fastenings,  there  was  not  a 
piece  of  metal  in  the  old  Yankee  clocks.  For  a  good  many  years, 
Terry  sold  his  clock  movements  for  five  pounds  apiece,  and  these 
were  cased  by  the  local  joiner  whenever  the  farmer  or  trader 
brought  one  home  to  his  family  and  village.  That  is  why  the 
upright  clocks  of  a  hundred  years  ago  have  so  much  character 
about  them,  and  the  true  reason  of  their  popularity  among  persons 
of  good  taste.  In  1807,  Terry  commenced  making  wooden  clocks 
by  machinery,  and,  about  the  same  time,  Riley  Whiting,  another 
Connecticut  man,  started  a  wooden-clock  factory  at  Winsted,  a  few 
miles  from  Waterbury.  He  introduced  a  great  many  improve- 
ments in  the  manufacture,  and  finally  became  the  most  important 
clockmaker  of  his  day  in  America. 

Meanwhile,  competition  had  already  reduced  the  price  of  wooden 
movements  from  five  pounds  to  twenty  shillings,  when  a  certain 
Chauncey  Jerome  suddenly  revolutionized  Clockland,  by  the  in- 
troduction of  a  clock  made  entirely  of  brass.  The  framework  and 
wheels  of  this  timepiece  were  punched  out  of  sheet  metal,  and  its 


%t 


CLOCKLAKD. 


17 


%* 


Bplndles  turned  in  automatic  lathes,  the  c£fect  of  this  change  in  the 
common  practice  being  to  reduce  the  cost  of  a  cloclc  movement  to 
about  two  shillings,  and  the  price  of  cased  clocks  to  eight  or  ten 
shillings  apiece.  A  first  consignment  of  Connecticut  clocks  was 
sent  to  England  in  1843,  and,  since  that  time,  not  only  have  they 
found  their  way  into  almost  every  British  kitchen  and  cottage,  but 
have  been  scattered  by  millions  broadcast  over  the  world. 

Aaron  Dcnnison  and  Edward  Howard  were  the  first  persons  who 
attempted  to  make  watches  by  machinery.  Their  object  was  to 
improve  upon  the  cheaper  Swiss  watches,  and,  competing  with  low- 
priced  labor  by  means  of  special  tools,  to  beat  the  Oenevese  in  their 
own  markets.  After  a  series  of  experiments,  lasting  over  two  years, 
they  felt  emboldened  to  seek  the  assistance  of  a  Boston  capitalist, 
Mr.  Samuel  Curtis,  and  the  first  watch  factory  was  built  at  Rox- 
bury,  Massachusetts,  in  1860.  This  modest  establishment  was  only 
a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long  and  twenty-five  feet  wide,  but  the 
pioneers  of  mechanical  watchmaking  thought  it  would  probably  be 
sufficient  for  all  purposes,  and  were  bold  men  at  that,  forty-four 
years  ago.  They  began  by  making  eight-day  watches,  but  had  only 
completed  fifty  of  these  when  the  pattern  was  pronounced  a  failure. 
The  usual  thirty-hour  watch  was  next  adopted,  and  before  a  thou- 
sand had  been  put  on  the  market,  it  seemed  desirable  to  increase  the 
scale  of  the  enterprise.  A  friCtory,  ten  times  larger  than  the  first, 
was  accordingly  built  at  Waltham,  Massachusetts,  in  1854,  where 
a  newly  organized  corporation,  called  the  Boston  Watch  Company, 
began  work  on  a  greatly  extended  basis. 

But  the  heavy  outlay  on  experiments,  machinery,  and  the  in- 
struction of  help  was  too  much  for  the  resources  of  the  new  con- 
cern, and,  three  years  after  the  Waltham  works  were  opened,  the 
company  went  into  liquidation.  Mr.  Howard,  under  whose  man- 
agement the  new  business  had  been  conducted,  fell  back  on  the  old 
Roxbury  factory,  which,  in  course  of  time,  he  enlarged  to  ten  times 
its  original  capacity.  There  he  still  remains,  making  higher-class 
watches  at  a  higher  price  than  was  at  first  proposed,  and  enjoying  an 
excellent  reputation  as  a  watchmaker.  Other  enterprising  men  bought 
the  Waltham  factory,  and,  conquering  in  the  course  of  time  the  early 
difficulties  of  the  undertaking,  have  made  the  name  of  these  works 
more  widely  known  and  connected  them  more  closely  with  the  idea 
of  machine-made  watches  than  any  other  concern  in  the  world. 

Clockmaking,  as  we  have  seen,  was  an  important  industry  in  the 
Naugatuck  valley  before  watchmaking  by  machinery  had  come  to 
the  birth,  but  it  was  not  in  the  nature  of  the  Connecticut  man  to  be 
satisfied  with  the  success,  such  as  it  was,  of  Roxbury  and  Waltham. 
He  burned  to  do  for  watches  what  Chauncey  Jerome  had  done  for 
clocks:  to  make  them  by  the  million,  for  the  million,  and  put  them 


18 


CLOCKLAND. 


into  everybody's  pocket,  as  clocks  had  already  been  put  upon  every- 
body's mantelpiece.  We  shall  see  how  far  he  has  succeeded,  when, 
after  a  glance  at  the  works  of  the  Waterbury  Clock  Company,  we 
find  our  way  to  the  splendid  factory  of  the  Waterbury  W'aich  Com- 
pany, scarcely  as  yet  five  years  old,  but  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
industrial  establishments  in  the  world. 

The  sun  was  hot,  although  the  air  was  keen,  as  we  strolled  up  the 
shady  sides  of  Waterbury  streets  from  the  railway  station  to  the 
centre  of  the  busy  town,  taking  notes  of  a  few  characteristic  Ameri- 
canisms by  the  way.  I  made  a  terrible  blunder,  for  instance,  very 
early  in  the  day.  A  tourist's  hair  is  always  too  long,  and,  having 
half  an  hour  to  spare,  I  stepped  .into  what  I  thought  was  a  hair- 
dresser's shop,  and  asked  the  smart  girl  behind  the  counter  if  I 
could  have  my  hair  cut.  She  smiled  in  a  superior  way,  and  said, 
"  You  are  a  stranger,  sir,  I  guess :  this  is  a  human-hair  depot,  and 
not  a  barber-shop."  Turning  to  the  window,  profusely  dressed  in 
"bangs"  and  "waterfalls,"  I  asked  pardon  if  the  display  of  these 
masterpieces  had  suggested  to  a  British  mind  the  idea  of  a  hair- 
cutting  saloon  within.  Softened  by  my  humility,  she  then  informed 
me  tl:at  a  dealer  in  "fine  human -hair  goods"  is  a  cut  above  a 
mere  hair-dresser,  and,  certainly,  if  a  handsome  shop  in  one  of  the 
best  streets  of  the  town  could  testify  on  her  behalf,  it  did  so  in 
the  present  instance.  Every  factory  girl  must,  of  course,  have  a 
"bang,"  even  if  it  is  made  of  jute  and  costs  only  a  few  cents;  but  a 
"waterfall,"  worth  any  number  of  dollars,  seems  equally  a  necessity 
among  richer  classes  in  the  States,  where  this  human-hair  business 
flaunts  itself  and  fiouhshes  in  a  very  remarkable  manner. 

I  am  afraid  that  the  present  generation  is  only  half  acquainted 
with  the  immortal  Yankee  pedler  whom  Haliburton  described  with 
the  pen  of  a  Dickens,  and  who  remains  to  this  day  one  of  the  mos^ 
characteristic  institutions  of  New  England.  But,  if  Twain,  Ho'  c 
and  other  American  humorists  have  overshadowed  the  great  .  '' 
for  a  moment,  this  delight  of  our  youth  will  not  die  yet,  for  he  UA»y 
still  be  found  in  every  town  and  village  of  the  Eastern  States. 

About  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  an  Irish  tinman,  named 
William  Pattison,  settled  at  Worthington,  in  the  State  of  Con- 
necticut, and,  after  supplying  all  the  village  kitchens  with  tinware, 
conceived  the  idea  of  packing  his  goods  in  panniers  on  the  backs  of 
horses  and  sending  them  to  considerable  distances  in  charge  of  his 
apprentices.  The  venture  succeeded,  and,  by  and  by,  the  horse  was 
P-ipplc'Ricnted  b^  ft  c&Tt  filled  with  ft  stock  of  tinware.  An  arm^  of 
Worthington  "tin  pedlers "  soon  roamed  all  the  settled  states  in  the 
Union,  calling  ai;  every  door,  and  compelling  custom  by  that  easy 
audacity  and  readiness  of  speech  of  which  Sam  Slick  is  the  ac- 
knowledged master. 


^v 


Cr.OCKLAMD. 


19 


%i 


The  modem  Connecticut  tin-pedler  carries  many  things  besides 
tinware,  to  convenience  mistresses  and  tempt  maids,  and,  as  we 
turn  disappointed  away  from  the  "Human -Hair  Depot,"  here  is 
one  of  them  coming  down  the  street.  He  drives  a  vehicle  looking 
like  a  stage-coach  crossed  by  a  wagon,  whose  long,  windowless  body 
is  painted  red,  and  whose  wheels  are  bright  yellow.  The  dusty 
machine  is  hung,  externally,  with  brooms,  brushes,  and  baskets, 
while  inside  it  is  stuffed  with  tinware,  dry  goods,  and  "  notions." 
At  the  rear  swing  great  bundles  of  feathers  and  rags,  for  the  tin- 
pedler  barters  upon  occasion,  and,  so  far  as  rags  are  concerned,  is 
the  chief  purveyor  of  the  New  England  paper-makers.  The  fellow 
in  question  has  the  face  of  a  double-distilled  Yankee,  and  wears  a 
stove-pipe  hat  made  of  tin  and  painted  red,  while  his  answer  to  our 
hail  informs  us  that  he  carries  a  clever  tongue,  wliich  can  be  per- 
suasive or  brazen,  as  occasion  requires.  He  is  evidently  returning 
after  a  long  expedition,  for  he  is  not  keen  to  do  business,  and, 
watching  his  tired  horses  stumbling  along  the  rough  roadway,  we 
think  of  him  respectfully  as  one  of  the  few  old  things  in  America, 
a  survival  in  the  country  where  scarcely  anything  survives  the 
passage  of  the  car  of  progress. 

The  Waterbury  Clock  Company's  factory  is  a  veritable  palace  of 
industry.  The  building  is  dignified,  if  not  handsome,  in  appear- 
ance, and,  as  usual  in  America,  specially  designed  for  the  purpose 
to  which  it  is  applied.  It  is  spacious  enough  for  the  future  exten- 
sion of  business,  convenient  for  work,  and  comfortable  in  all  its 
arrangements,  both  for  master  and  man. 

The  New  England  manufacturer  has  no  notion  of  spending  the 
greater  part  of  his  day  in  a  dirty,  ill-furnished,  ill-ventilated  room, 
or,  indeed,  of  asking  his  book-keeper  to  do  so.  On  the  contrarj',  he 
houses  his  staff  in  large,  handsome  rooms,  fitted  with  many  clever 
devices  for  facilitating  work,  from  among  which  the  telephone  is 
never  absent.  Most  of  his  clerks  are  girls,  who  also  conduct  the 
correspondence,  using  the  type- writer  almost  universally  for  this 
purpose.  The  offices  are  kept  scrupulously  neat  and  clean,  and 
their  occupants  are  distinguished  by  an  air  of  briskness  very 
different  to  that  which  characterizes  their  duller  brethren  of  the 
desk  in  England.  The  workshops,  again,  are  so  comfortable,  .and 
the  operatives  so  like  the  masters  in  ideas  bad  manners,  that  an 
Englishman  is  altogether,  but  very  agreeably,  surprised  .on  his  first 
introduction  to  a  Yankee  factory. 

Gloze  it  Over  as  we  may,  there  is  a  great  gult  fixed  between  the 
ideas  of  Old  and  New  Engl  nd  on  this  radical  qucstidn  of  the 
dignity  of  work.  Our  industrial  occupations  consist,  speaking 
generally,  of  mere  money-spinning.  The  places  where,  and  the 
people  by  whom,  we  carry  them  on,  are  cared  for  economically, 


do 


CLOCKLANO. 


and  that  is  all.  It  is  not  in  our  business,  but  by  our  "position," 
that  we  shine  in  the  eyes  of  ourselves  and  our  neighbors.  The 
social  code  of  this  country  drives,  yearly,  numbers  of  young  men, 
issuing  from  our  public  schools  and  universities,  either  into  the  over- 
crowded learned  professions  or  into  government  clerkships,  whose 
narrow  round  of  irresponsible  duties  benumbs  originplity  and 
weakens  self-reliance.  Capable,  educated  girls,  are  pining  for  u 
"career"  in  England,  while  posts,  even  the  most  important,  are 
filled  in  New  England  by  "young  ladies,"  the  equals  of  ours  in 
everything  which  that  phrase  denotes,  and  their  superiors  in  all  the 
qualities  that  are  born  of  effort  and  self-help.  It  is  no  one's  fault, 
and  I  am  not  going  lo  rail  at  the  inevitable.  We  were  originally 
a  feudal  country,  and  cannot  escape  the  influence  of  our  traditions. 
The  man  who  dopd  service  for  another  was  a  "  villein  "  in  the  feudal 
times,  and  is  an  "inferior"  now;  just  as  a  man  of  no  occupation  is 
a  "gentleman,"  and  a  governess  a  "person."  Use  has  made  us 
unconscious  of  the  fact  that  the  "dignity  of  work  "  is  a  mere  phrase 
in  our  mouths,  while  it  blinds  us  to  the  loss  of  national  energy,  which 
avenges  outraged  labor. 

I  sat,  one  day  early  last  September,  under  the  razor  of  a  strange 
barber,  when  my  gossip, wishing  to  please,  said,  "You  had  a  fine 
day  for  the  partridges  on  the  first,  sir,  this  year."  Now,  if  I  like 
trout-fishing  on  occasion,  there  is  certainly  nothing  of  the  sportsman 
about  my  appeaAance,  but  this  Nello  of  the  Burlington  Arcade,  with 
his  eye  on  a  tip,  thought  he  knew  how  to  tickle  me;  for  do  not  all 
his  customers  like  to  be  considered  members  of  the  idle  classes? 
And,  being  human,  they  cannot  help  it.  The  roots  of  our  civiliza- 
tion were  laid  in  feudality,  although  they  have  branched  into  free- 
dom, but  the  tree  has  yet  to  bear  the  flower  of  equality.  Hence,  we 
remain  a  race  of  castes,  whose  boundaiy  lines  are  so  rigid  as  to  be, 
at  present,  impassable.  The  "upper  "  and  "  lower  "  strata  of  society, 
the  idle  and  industrial  classes,  indeed,  cannot  amalgamate,  for  they 
are  separated  by  differences  so  profound  that  contact  between  them 
must  be  attended  either  by  servility  or  hostility.  Centuries  of  in- 
equality have  so  degraded  labor  that  its  ranks  are  now  effectually 
barred  to  culture,  and  our  golden  youth  is  squandered  while  we 
wait  for  the  renascence  of  industry. 

Matters  are  very  different  in  New  England.  The  owners  of 
these  brass-mills  and  clock-shops  are  proud  of  that  industry  which — 
not  only  with  their  lips,  but  by  their  lives — they  honor.    Their 

nnprativPQ  ■with  xirhnm  nnA  Hin«>n  «t.  pyprir  HoHfrVtoo  TJoUES  is  the 

Naugatuck  valley,  are  well  educated,  well-mannered,  and  intelligent 
companions,  hopeful  as  to  their  own  chances  of  success  in  life,  sat- 
isfied to  see  cleverer  men  ihan  themselves  growing  rich,  and  honor- 
ing  industry,  because  they, -the  children  of  industry,  are  honored. 


CLOCKLAND.  21 

But  I  am  moralizing  outside  the  factory,  while  my  readers  are 
anxious  to  go  within.  Having  passed  through  the  cheerful  offices 
and  admired  the  trim  girl-clerks,  our  attention  is  pointedly  drawn  to 
a  new  system  of  fire-prevention,  now  coming  into  use  throughout 
manufacturing  New  England.  These  mountain  towns  are  well 
supplied  with  water,  whose  pressure  is  high  and  supply  constant. 
A  network  of  pipes,  in  connection  with  the  town  mains,  is  fixed  to 
every  ceiling  in  the  factory,  the  pipes  themselves  being  furnished 
with  "sprinklers,"  or  roses,  each  of  which  commands  a  space  of 
about  ten  feet  square.  The  plugs  arc  closed  by  fusible  metal, 
which  melt  at  a  temperature  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  degrees,  giving 
vent,  in  case  of  danger,  to  a  rush  of  water  sufiicient  to  extinguish 
any  incipient  fire.  As  a  concurrent  effect  of  any  one  of  these  plugs 
melting,  an  alarm-bell  is  set  violently  ringing,  the  whole  arrange* 
ment  being  perfectly  automatic  and  always  ready  for  action. 

The  chief  mechanical  agent  employed  in  making  cheap  clocks  is 
the  punch,  a  tool  which  has  been  brought  to  an  extraordinary  state 
of  perfection  in  Connecticut.  Wheel  blanks  are  stamped  out  by  it 
about  as  fast  as  one  can  comfortably  count.  These  are  clamped  to< 
gether,  sixty  at  a  time,  on  a  spindle  which,  being  turned  round  step 
by  step,  exposes  the  edges  of  the  blanks  to  the  action  of  a  rotary 
cutter,  grooving  out  four  hundred  teeth  in  a  minute.  The  clock 
spindles,  or  "pivots,"  are  turned  in  tiny  lathes,  whose  tools,  al- 
though held  in  the  hand,  are  furnished  with  stops  which  determine 
the  lengths  and  diameters  of  the  work,  independently  of  the  oper< 
ator.  The  separate  pieces  are  taken  up-stairs  from  the  punch  and 
lathe  to  be  "assembled,"  and  after  this  operation,  which  is  an  affair 
of  a  few  minutes  only  in  respect  of  a  single  clock,  the  finished 
"movements"  are  placed  in  a  tray  standing  beside  the  workman. 
Each  tray  holds  a  hundred  and  fifty  movements,  and,  when  full, 
a  boy  carries  it  away  to  the  "starter."  This  man  sets  each  clock 
going  and  corrects  any  trifling  defects  in  the  previous  operator's  work. 
After  running  for  twenty-four  Iiours,  the  movements  pass  on  to  the 
"inspector,"  who  returns  the  bad  time-keepers  either  to  the  starter 
cr  to  the  assembler,  and  hands  over  the  balance  to  the  casing  depart- 
ment, a  totally  distinct  industry.  The  Waterbury  Clock  Company 
make  about  fifteen  hundred  clocks  a  day,  and  the  total  production 
of  the  New  England  clock-shops  is  not  less  than  ten  thousand  a  day. 
These  are  sold  at  prices  varying  from  five  shillings  to  ten  poimds 
apiece,  and  are  sent  to  every  part  of  the  world. 

Tf  the  "Waterbury  Clock  Company's  factory  is  pt^operly  called  a 
palace  of  industry,  I  want  a  new  name  to  characterize  that  of  the 
Waterbury  Watch  Company.  The  building  itself  looks  like  a  fine 
town-hall  or  museum,  and  we,  indeed,  entered  its  handsome  vesti- 
bule, doubtful  whether  we  had  not  mistaken  some  public  institution 


'' 


28  CLOCKLAND. 

for  a  manufactory.  But  we  were  soon  reassured  on  this  point  by 
the  manager,  Mr.  Lock,  who  responded  to  our  letters  of  introduction 
with  customary  American  kindness. 

The  watch  factories  of  Massachusetts,  whose  origin  and  history 
have  already  been  sketched,  had  long  made  it  easy  for  people  of 
moderate  means  to  carry  the  time  in  their  pockets.  When  it  occurred 
to  some  of  the  long-sighted  manufacturers  of  the  Naugatuck  valley 
that  a  good,  reliable  watch,  at  a  price  of  about  three  dollars,  would 
find  a  wide,  unoccupied  field,  and  might  pay.  The  cheapest 
Waltham  watch,  constructed  of  more  than  a  hundred  and  sixty 
pieces,  costs  a  great  deal  more  than  three  dollars,  and  the  first  thing, 
therefore,  required  to  carry  out  the  proposed  programme  was  a  good 
time-keeper,  no  toy,  which  should  have  fewer  pieces  in  it  than  any 
existing  watch. 

There  came,  one  day,  a  Massachusetts  watch-repairer  into  the  Cen- 
tennial Exhibition,  with  a  steam-engine  in  his  waistcoat  pocket, 
which,  although  a  thimble  covered  it,  had  a  boiler,  cylinder,  piston, 
valves,  governor,  crank  and  crank  shaft,  and  would  work.  The 
maker,  Mr.  Buck,  placed  it  side  by  side  with  the  great  Corliss 
engine,  which  was  one  of  the  wonders  of  tb  e  Philadelphia  show,  and, 
thus  juxtaposed,  these  representatives  of  aignity  and  impudence  re- 
mained throughout  the  exhibition.  Mr.  Charles  Benedict,  a  partner 
in  one  of  the  largest  brass-mills  on  the  Naugatuck,  and  one  of  the 
promoters  of  the  cheap-watch  scheme,  saw  it,  and,  presently,  asked 
Mr.  Buck  to  design  the  three-dollar  watch  of  the  future.  He  under- 
took the  commission,  and,  at  first,  failed.  But  a  Yankee  inventor 
follows  a  mechanical  trail  with  the  perseverance  of  an  Indian,  and, 
within  a  year,  the  watch-hunter  had  made  a  practical  time-piece,  hav- 
ing only  fifty-eight  pieces  in  it,  all  told.  He  took  it  to  Mr.  Benedict, 
who  tested  it  in  every  possible  way,  and  the  watch  stood  the  tests. 

Preparations  were  at  once  commenced  to  make  it  on  a  large  scale. 
A  factory,  designed  by  Hartwell,  the  architect  of  Waltham,  was 
erected,  and  two  years  were  spent  in  filling  it  with  the  necessary  tools 
and  machinery.  Although  the  watch  was  to  be  cheap,  it  did  not 
follow  that  the  plant  for  producing  it  should  be  cheap  also,  and  so 
it  happened  that,  when  the  building  was  finished  and  furnished, 
nearly  half  a  million  of  dollars  had  been  expended.  Manufacturing 
operations  were  commenced  in  May,  1881,  and  since  that  date  the 
*•  Waterbury  Watch,"  as  it  was  called,  has  been  steadily  produced 
at  the  rate  of  six  hundred  a  day,  or  one  per  minute. 

AU  th«  'nnrtn  nf  thl"?  wfttch  9.r6  !?»terob*«!?"'eB.ble.  If  vou  h*wJ  ft 
pint  each  of  wheels,  pinions,  springs,  and  pivots,  you  could  put  any 
of  them  together,  and  the  watch  so  produced  would  go  and  keep 
time.  That  is  because  each  piece  is  made  by  automatic  machinery, 
which  cannot  make  errors  as  the  hand  can.   But  if  you  tooktwemty 


■o 


CLOCKLAin>.  88  ! 

Swiss  watches  to  pieces  and  sliufiBed  up  their  parts,  you  would  spoil 
twenty  watches,  and  not  be  able  to  make  one  that  would  go  without 
fitting. 

Having  told  us  all  this  and  much  more,  Mr.  Lock  put  us  in  charge 
of  a  guide  and  we  made  a  circuit  of  the  workshops.  These  might 
more  appropriately  be  called  saloons,  so  sightly  are  they  and  so  i 

beautifully  fitted  with  every  appliance  for  comfort  and  convenience.  ! 

Entering  at  the  operatives'  door,  we  came,  first,  upon  the  dressing-  ' 

room,  where  each  workman  has  his  ticketed  hooks  for  coat  and  hat, 
his  own  ticketed  towel,  while  the  common  lavatory  is  equal  to  that 
of  an  English  club.  The  girls'  toilet-room  is  quite  dainty  in  its  ar- 
rangements, a  separate  supply  of  water,  for  instance,  and  separate  | 
vessels  for  face  and  hand  washing  being  provided.  The  most  exact 
neatness  and  scr  'pulous  cleanliness  are  insured,  by  the  appointment 
of  a  special  attendant  to  this  usually  neglected  department. 

The  "train-room"  and  "assembly-room"  constitute  the  bulk  of 
the  factory,  and  to  these  everything  else  is  ancillary.  The  first  requi- 
sites of  a  watch  factory  are  abundance  of  light,  neatness,  and  clean- 
liness. No  man  can  do  his  best  when  physically  uncomfortable, 
whether  from  excess  of  heat  or  cold,  a  poor  light,  or,  above  all,  bad 
air.  It  is  now  universally  acknowledged,  at  least  in  the  Naugatuck 
valley,  that  everything  which  contributes  to  the  physical  comfort 
and  mental  benefit  of  the  workman  pays  a  good  return  on  its  first 
cost.  Hence,  the  w^alls  of  the  train-room  are  all  windows,  the  ceil- 
ings are  high,  the  warming  and  ventilation  is  perfect.  There  is  no 
smoke,  dust,  or  bad  air,  and  the  operatives  are  comfortably  seated  at 
their  respective  benches. 

'  The  beautiful  and  costly  special  machinery  which  aids  watch- 
making, as  carried  on  in  the  States,  is  collected  in  this  apartment. 
Here  the  various  wheels,  pinions,  and  pivots,  forming  the  "train" 
of  a  watch,  are  made,  the  little  automata  which  produce  them  being 
watched  and  tended,  one  cannot  say  directed,  by  girls.  Here,  for 
example,  is  the  self-acting  wheel-cutter,  which  spaces  and  cuts  the 
teeth  of  fifty  wheels  at  once.  All  its  attendant  has  to  do  is  to  pick 
up  fifty  blanks,  just  as  they  come  from  the  stamping  department, 
slip  them  on  a  spindle,  offer  this  to  the  automaton,  cover  the  latter 
with  a  metal  shield,  to  keep  out  dust,  and  start  the  machine.  This, 
then,  goes  soberly  on,  feeding  the  whf '?  "p  to  the  cutters  and  spac- 
ing the  teeth  until  all  are  cut,  when  it  stops.  The  finished  wheels 
are  taken  out,  new  blanks  are  supplied,  and  the  wheel-cutter  resumes 
work.  There.  ::g£ia,  io  an  autouiatlc  "  ulail  "-turning  lathe.  The 
bit  of  steel  wire  on  which  it  operates  is  only  a  tenth  of  an  inch  in 
diameter  and  a  quarter  of  an  inch  long;  but  requires  twenty-seven 
distinct  operations  to  shape  it  to  the  proper  form  and  dimensions. 
The  girl  who  tends  this  machine  really  superintends  some  sixteen 


24 


CLOCKLAKD. 


thousand  movements  a  day,  sitting  at  lier  ease,  meanwiiile,  in  a  com- 
fortable chair,  and  giving  her  charge  an  occasional  drop  of  oil. 

The  "  assembly-room  "  might  justify  its  name  if  it  were  a  question 
of  a  county  ball,  instead  of  watchmaking.  Here  the  parts  we  have 
watched  in  the  making  are  given  out,  by  the  pint  and  the  pound, 
and  grow  into  movements,  under  the  deft  fingers  of  a  number  of 
specially  trained  watchmakers,  at  the  rate  of  one  per  minute.  Then 
they  are  cased,  and,  lastly,  placed  in  shallow  trays,  holding  each 
about  three  hundred  watches,  for  testing.  The  trays  are  supported 
upon  pivots,  and  can  be  swung  into  any  position  between  the  verti- 
cal and  horizontal.  The  watches  remain  first  upright,  then  at  an 
angle  of  4S°  and,  finally,  upside  down,  for  a  space  of  six  days  alto- 
gether, going  all  the  time.  Those  which  stop,  or  fail  to  keep  time, 
are  sent  back  to  the  "assembly-room,"  while  those  which  pass  mus- 
ter are  boxed  and  despatched  to  the  native  and  foreign  markets. 

This  factory  cost,  as  we  have  seen,  about  half  a  million  of  dollars, 
employs  three  hundred  hands,  and  turns  out  six  hundred  watches  a 
day.  These  sell  for  two  dollars  forty-three  cents  apiece,  and  if  any 
one  should  ask  Mr.  Lock,  "Why  not  for  an  even  two  fifty?"  he 
might  perhaps  answer,  as  once  before,  to  such  an  inquirer,  "Don't 
you  know  ?  Three  cents  is  the  cost  of  the  watch,  the  jn'ofit  is  an 
even  two  forty." 

A  few  moments  before  six  o^cIock  we  stationed  ourselves  at  the 
factory  door  to  watch  the  issuing  operatives.  Of  these  the  greater 
number  are  girls,  but,  girl  or  man,  almost  every  one  had  a  smile  and 
a  nod  for  the  manager,  a  smile  and  nod  which  were  charming  be- 
cause of  their  eloquence  as  to  the  relations  between  employer  and 
employed.  Of  one,  Mr.  Lock  would  say,  "  He  is  our  librarian  ;"  of 
another,  "He  teaches  in  my  Sunday  school ;"  of  this  girl,  "She  is 
the  best  singer  in  ovir  church  choir ;"  of  that,  "She  is  my  wife's 
right  hand  at  a  bee. "  If  there  is  military  discipline  inside  the  works, 
ihere.is  both  friendship  and  equality  between  employer  and  employed 
without  its  walls.  When  Jack  is  really  as  good  as  his  mastef;  the 
old  proverb  has  no  sting. 


Chapter  IV. 

WINBTED— A  TEMPERANCE  TOWN. 

The  Naugatuck  valley  heads  about  thirty  miles  north  of  Water- 
bury,  and  as  our  train  threads  its  rocky  bed,  sweeps  around  its  fre- 
quent curves,  and  enters  its  open  bottoms,  or  "intervales,"  as  they 
are  here  called,  we  find  the  last  almost  always  occupied  by  industrial 
towns.  These  are  seldom  more  than  three  or  four  miles  apart,  are 
all  Ansonias  or  Waterburys  in  appearance,  full  of  brass-mills,  clock- 
shops,  pin-factories,  and  similar  establishments. 

Arrived  within  ten  miles  of  the  river's  source,  where  it  is  no  longer 
able  to  turn  a  mill-whccl,  the  railway  leaves  the  stream  and,  crossing 
a  low  divide,  reaches,  within  a  few  miles,  another  mountain  stream, 
called  the  Mad  River.  This  is  a  small  but  turbulent  tributary  of  the 
Farmington,  a  river  of  considerable  industrial  importance,  which 
drives  a  thousand  wheels  in  its  long,  tortuous  course  through  hills 
that  turn  it,  now  north,  now  south,  on  its  way  to  join  the  Connecti- 
cut River.  The  Mad  River  valley  is  the  double  of  the  Naugatuck, 
excavated  in  the  same  primitive  rocks  and  bordered  by  similar  de- 
posits of  glacial  detritus.  These  have  been  stratified  by  the  action 
of  water,  and  are  conspicuous  by  their  arrangement  into  flanking 
terraces,  upon  whose  level,  continuous  surfaces  the  railways  of  these 
New  England  glens  seek  their  remotest  water-powers,  as  if  by  ready- 
made  roads. 

The  woods  on  either  side  of  the  valley  began  to  show  signs  of  the 
coming  spring.  Although  the  birches  and  chestnuts  were  still  quite 
bare,  the  half -unfolded  leaves  of  some  early  maples  patched  the  dark 
hemlocks  with  crimson;  while  the  bloom  of  an  occasional  dogwood 
shone  like  a  snowball  against  groves  of  evergreen  pine.  The  river 
brawled  loudly  over  its  steep,  rocky  bed,  and  the  air  grew  keen  as 
we  rose  from  the  lower  valley  towns  to  a  level  of  about  seven  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  sea. 

Here  lies  Winsted,  a  half-agricultural,  half-mechanical  town,  of 
six  thousaiid  souls,  jammed  in  a  rccl:y  glen,  •which  is  only  just  wide 
enough  to  accommodate  its  main  street.  This  curves  around  a  wide 
bend  in  the  ncdsy  stream,  beside  which  it  straggles  for  a  long  way,  a 
broken  line  of  churches,  factories,  stores,  and  private  houses.  Cross 
streets  branch  from  it  irregularly,  ascending  lateral  valleys  which 

2 


86 


WIN8TED— A  TEMPERAKCE  TOWN. 


lose  themselves  in  grassy  uplands,  and  spread  the  dwellings  of  a  few 
thousand  people  over  the  area  of  a  little  city. 

They  have  an  odd  way  in  Connecticut  of  giving  compound  names 
to.  such  new  places  as  grow  up  from  time  to  time  between  two  or 
more  existing  townships  in  the  state.  Wlnsted  is  a  case  in  point. 
It  lies  on  the  borders  of  Winchester  and  Berkhampstcad,  and  has 
therefore  been  called  Winsted.  Waterbury  itself  is  a  compound  of 
Watertown  and  Middlebury,  Torringford  of  Torrington  and  Hart- 
ford, and  Wintonbury  of  Windsor  Farmington  and  Simsbury.  The 
custom  is  fruitful  of  names  having  a  sound  which  is  English  in  char- 
acter without  being  familiar  to  the  ear. 

A  halcyon  Sabbath,  with  a  turquoise  sky  and  heavenly  air,  seemed 
just  the  day  for  a  cle^  pair  of  boots.  Accordingly,  we  struggled 
for  a  time  before  breakfast  with  the  shoe-brushes,  which  invite  trav- 
ellers to  help  themselves  in  the  "washroom"  of  every  rural  hotel 
in  New  England.  After  a  third-rate  performance  on  these  unaccus- 
tomed instruments,  we  sought  the  morning  meal,  consisting  of  Con- 
necticut shad  and  Indian  pudding.  Connecticut  shad  has  more 
bones  than  any  other  fish  in  the  world.  It  is  said,  indeed,  that  an 
ingenious  Connecticut  man  once  constructed  an  automatic  machine, 
which,  upon  turning  a  handle,  delivered  one  stream  of  fish  into  the 
mouth,  and  another  of  bones  behind  the  back.  Everything  went 
well  with  the  inventor  on  a  first  trial,  and  might  have  so  continued, 
but  for  an  unfortunate  accident.  The  machine  was  new,  the  motion 
unaccustomed,  and,  in  his  anxiety  to  take  note  of  certain  imperfect 
details,  the  schemer  forgot  which  way  the  handle  turned.  One  only 
revolution  in  the  wrong  direction  was  enough.  The  shad  went  over 
his  shoulder,  the  bones  into  his  throat,  and  the  Connecticut  man  was 
choked  before  any  one  could  say  "Jack  Robinson."  His  secret 
died  with  him,  but  not  so  the  shad-bones,  which  still  remain,  the 
peril,  of  American  dinner-tables,  the  puzzle  of  American  inventors. 

And  Indian  pudding  ?  Well,  that  is  a  kind  of  fritter  made  of 
maize  fiour,  a  dish  which,  in  old  colonial  days,  was  eaten  boiled  on 
Saturday,  while  what  remained  "the  queen  next  day  had  fried." 
These  fine  distinctions  of  right  and  wrong  are  not  confined  to  New 
England.  I  remember,  when  a  boy,  that  the  Sunday  dinner  of  cold 
meat  was,  indeed,  relieved  by  boiled  potatoes,  but  "it  was  wrong" 
to  cook  anything  else.  In  the  same  way,  baked  potatoes  were  an 
orthodox  dish  for  Sunday's  supper,  in  families  where  it  would  have 
been  thought  sinful  to  grill  a  steak  or  toast  a  Welsh  rarebit.  They 
were  not  too  good  to  boil  and  bake  for  us  on  the  Sabbath  at  Win- 
sted, but  the  man  must  be  an  infidel  or  an  agnostic  who  breakfasts 
without  Indian  pudding  on  the  Lord's  day  in  New  England. 

The  village  streets  were  as  silent  as  the  grave  when  we  sallied  out 
of  the  hotel  for  a  morning  walk.    The  white  wooden  houses,  with 


t 


WINSTBD— A  TEMFERANCB  TOWK. 


87 


tlieir  green  jalousies,  looked  prim  and  prudish,  while  a  most  uncom- 
promising church  dominated  the  silent  streets  with  a  stark  wooden 
spire.  Presently  a  stream  of  young  people  of  both  sexes,  neat  in 
dress  and  proper  in  manner,  filed  this  way  and  that  to  their  respec- 
tive Sunday-schools.  At  nine  o'clock  precisely  the  church  bell  be- 
gan to  ring,  not  for  the  assembly  of  worshippers,  but  a  "warning 
peal. "  This,  in  the  colonial  days,  when  a  clock,  as  we  have  seen,  was 
an  heirloom,  told  the  outlying  farmers  it  Was  time  to  hitch  up  their 
teams  and  start  with  their  families  for  the  meeting-house.  The'bell 
still  continues  to  toll,  although  every  rural  mantelpiece  is  now  fur- 
nished with  its  two-dollar  timepiece.  Tin-pedlers,  it  seems,  are  not 
the  only  survivals  in  New  England. 

We  strolled  upwards  from  the  main  street  towards  the  grassy 
slopes  which  surround  the  town,  admiring  the  beautiful  foliage  of 
the  hemlocks  and  wondering  at  the  number  of  cottages  which  wc  saw 
in  course  of  erection.  The  artisans  of  New  England  live,  much 
more  commonly  than  those  of  Old  England,  in  their  own  houses. 
One  half  of  the  wage-earners  in  the  manufacturing  state  of  Massa- 
chusetts rent  their  houses,  but  one  fourth  of  them  are  house-owners, 
while  the  remaining  fourth  are  lodgers.  There  are,  of  course,  differ- 
ences between  one  district  and  another  in  this  respect ;  such  towns 
as  those  we  have  already  visited  having  many  more  freeholders  than 
the  large  industrial  cities.  Freeholders  are  fewer  in  the  textile  than 
in  other  industries,  only  one  man  in  ten  owning  his  own  house  at 
Fall  River,  the  Manchester  of  America.  At  Wmchendon,  on  the 
other  hand,  where  they  make  wooden  ware,  at  Westfleld,  where  they 
make  whips,  at  Lynn,  where  they  make  boots  and  shoes,  one  work- 
man in  every  four  is  a  house-owner. 

Building  is  certainly  made  easy  for  operatives  in  New  England. 
At  Winsted,  Mr.  Gilbert,  one  of  the  largest  clock-masters  in  the  dis- 
trict, puts  up  houses  for  any  of  his  men  at  the  rate  of  |700,  or 
£140,  for  house  and  lot,  a  hundred  dollars  being  paid  down,  and 
the  balance  standing  on  easy  terms  of  interest  and  repayment.  Mr. 
Gilbert  is  a  rich  man,  wha  likes  this  kind  of  investment,  but  his 
practice  only  gives  effect  to  the  principles  of  New  England  manu- 
facturers generally.  They  are  convinced  that  the  magic  of  property 
makes  men  at  once  better  citizens  and  more  valuable  servants. 
Hence,  where  there  are  no  Gilberts,  the  banks  take  their  places,  and 
no  steady  operative  finds  it  difficult  to  build  a  house,  while  many  of 
them  do  so  without  borrowing  money.  These  artisans'  dwellings 
are  net  only  rccmy  and  ccmfcrtablG,  but  very  attractive  iii  appeai- 
ance.  They  have  basements  of  cut  stone,  surmounted  by  a  tasteful 
superstructure  of  wood,  a  wide  veranda,  kitchen,  parlor,  and  bed- 
room on  the  ground  floor  and  three  bedrooms  above,  besides  cup- 
boards and  pantries.    They  are  always  painted  white  and  adorned 


28 


WIKBTED— A  TEBIFBRAKCB  TOWN. 


with  green  jalousies,  both  these  features  being  as  much  de  rigueur  ad 
Indian  pudding  for  Sabbath  day's  breakfast.  When  these  pretty 
homes,  witlx  their  clean  faces,  well-tilled  quarter-acre  lots  and  win- 
dows aglow  with  geraniums,  are  scattered,  as  in  the  Mad  River  and 
Naugatuck  valleys,  amid  beautiful  mountain  glens,  they  suggest  that 
American  labor  lives  in  an  atmosphere  characterized  by  something 
which  is  more  than  comfort  if  less  than  culture.  It  is  time,  indeed, 
to  step  within  doors  and  see  how  the  Connecticut  artisan,  whose  ac- 
quaintance we  have  already  made  in  the  workshop,  appears  diet  lui. 

Our  friend  Mr.  S is  an  Ansonia  mechanic  who  occupies  the 

ground  floor  of  his  own  house,  which  is  considerably  larger  than  the 
single  houses  already  described,  and  lets  the  upper  part  to  a  fellow- 
operative.  His  pretty  cottage  looks,  upwards,  to  the  wooded  slopes 
of  the  Green  Mountain  range  ;  downwards,  upon  the  river  Nauga- 
tuck, with  its  blue,  lake-like  mill-ponds,  and  surrounding  factories, 
from  whose  distant  chimneys  arises  nothing  worse  than  white  puffs 
of  steam.  We  found  his  wife  and  daughter  reading  on  the  veranda, 
and  were  welcomed  by  them  with  a  manner  charmingly  compounded 
of  simplicity,  independence,  and  the  wish  to  please.  Within  was  a 
pleasant  sitting-room,  furnished  with  all  the  comforts  and  some  of 
the  luxuries  of  life.  The  tables  were  strewn  with  books.  For  mu- 
sical instruments  there  was  the  American  organ,  while  some  pretty 
photographs  adorned  the  walls.  No  refreshment  was  offered  us,  for 
they  drink  nothing  in  temperate  New  England,  and  no  one  eats  be- 
tween the  regular  meal-hours. 

The  conversation  fell  on  American  history  and  particularly  on  the 
period  just  prior  to  the  War  of  Independence.  If  it  was  delightful 
to  find  ample  knowledge  and  critical  appreciation  of  the  men  and 
events  of  that  stirring  time,  it  was  touching  to  learn  in  what  respect 
the  heroes  of  the  Revolution  are  held  by  all  native  Americans.    Mrs. 

8 ,  for  example,  regarded  it  as  a  real  privilege  to  have  been  boiu  at 

Concord,  and  her  daughter  looked  ardently  forward  to  some  day  see- 
ing the  famous  North  Bridge  in  that  city,  where  British  soldiers  first 
met  and  iccoilcd  front  a  handful  of  militia-men,  pulling  maiden  trig- 
gers on  behalf  of  national  independence.  Thus  we  spent  a  most 
pleasant  hour,  and  when  it  was  time  to  go,  were  uncertain  which 
most  to  admire,  the  education,  the  high  moral  tone,  the  logical  habit 
of  mind,  or  the  readiness  to  welcome  new  ideas  which  characterized 
the  whole  family. 

Like  many  other  freeholders  of  the  same  class,  Mr.  S lets  one 

half  his  house  and  lives  in  the  other,  his  tenant  being  a  German- 
American  mechanic,  whose  wife  only  tv-is  at  heme  whca  we  Callcu. 
Well,  indeed,  does  this  bright  little  woman  deserve  her  name  of 
Rosenbaum,  for  she  lives  surrounded  by  flowers,  of  which  she  is 
an  ardent  lover  and  successful  cultivator.    Roses  and  geraniums 


•WINBTED— A  TEMPERANCE  TOWN. 


20 


crowded  every  corner  of  Mrs.  Roscnbaum's  room,  so  thnt  our  tolk 
fell  naturally  on  her  hobby,  which  she  discussed  with  great  enthu- 
siasm and  many  smiles.  Although  the  same  people,  wo  were  no 
longer  the  same  party  as  when  below  stairs.  A  gleam  of  Continental 
brightness  shone  from  the  cheery  German  frau  over  Yankee  serious- 
ness and  English  phlegm.  Her  national  character  had  gained  inde- 
pendence from  American  associations,  without  losing  its  lighter, 
pleasure-loving  traits.  A  family  of  six  children  lived  on  this  mod- 
est flat ;  but  they  had  all  evidently  been  trained  in  habits  of  extreme 
neatness,  for  every  room,  from  kitchen  to  attic,  was  spotlessly  clean 
and  in  apple-pie  order. 

Such  are  the  homes  of  native  American  labor  and  of  those  foreign 
workmen  who  have  lived  for  a  long  time  under  native  American  in- 
fluences. We  shall  hereafter  find,  among  immigrant  artisans,  dwell- 
ings and  tenants  corresponding  much  more  closely  than  do  these  to 
our  notions  of  workmen  and  workmen's  homes.  Already,  indeed, 
we  foresee  that  important  questions,  as  to  the  reciprocal  influence  of 
European  labor  and  American  ideas,  will  arise  as  we  proceed,  but 
these  we  are  not  yet  in  a  position  to  discuss.  For  the  present  we 
are  content  to  note  that  the  wave  of  emigration  which  has  already 
flooded  many  American  industries,  especially  the  textiles,  has  not  yet 
risen  to  great  heights  in  dockland.  There,  as  in  the  boot  and  shoe 
factories  of  Massachusetts,  the  operatives  are  still,  for  the  most  part, 
genuine  Yankees,  although  their  numbers  are  constantly  being  di- 
minished by  the  attractions  which  the  Far  West  offers  to  enterpris- 
ing natures. 

A  casual  acquaintance,  who  joined  us  in  our  Sunday-morning 
stroll,  was  himself  building  a  house  on  one  of  Mr.  Gilbert's  lots,  hav- 
ing been  blown  out  of  his  old  home  some  months  before  by  a  cyclone. 
New  England  is  not  often  visited  by  these  terrific  storms,  which  are 
common  in  some  western  states,  but  this  was  a  particularly  destruc- 
tive occurrence.  The  whirlwind  descended,  in  the  first  instance, 
over  a  bare  mountain  shoulder  into  the  Winstcd  valley,  crossing 
which,  it  completely  destroyed  ten  solidly  built  houses.  Then  it 
roared  up  an  opposite  hillside,  making  a  clear  lane  about  twenty 
yards  wide  and  several  miles  long,  through  the  forest  covering  of  the 
mountain.  Each  of  the  houses  in  question  was  lifted  completely  off 
the  ground,  carried  forward  for  several  yards  and  then  dropped,  be- 
coming instantly  converted  into  a  shapeless  heap  of  debrk.  Wo 
found  a  brick  chimney  lying  on  the  ground  in  fragments,  at  least 
fifty  yards  distant  from  the  dwelling  to  which  it  had  belonged.  Tho 
stoutest  beams  were  shattered,  while  the  staircases  and  wooden  lin- 
ings of  the  rooms  were  thrashed  into  matchwood.  The  wrecked 
roofs  were  stripped  bare  of  shingles,  and  even  granite  foundation- 
stones  were  in  some  cases  torn  from  their  beds  and  tossed  hither  and 


80 


WINSTED— A  TEMFGRANCB  TOWN. 


thither.  Fences  which  once  crossed  the  track  of  the  storm  had  dls* 
appeared  into  space.  Trees  in  its  course  were  twisted  short  off,  and 
tlieir  fractures  looked  like  bundles  of  slivers.  In  one  remarkable 
case  a  piece  of  pine  board,  some  eight  feet  long,  had  struck  a  large 
elm  tree  in  its  flight  through  the  air.  The  blow  was  between  a 
plump  and  a  graze,  and  the  board  completely  penetrated  the  bark,  in 
which  it  regained  flrmly  fixed,  with  half  its  length  protruding  on 
either  side  of  the  elm.  Strange  to  say,  no  lives  were  lost  in  this 
storm,  although  all  the  houses  were  inhabited,  and  that  of  our  com- 
panion contained  nearly  a  dozen  people  at  the  time  of  the  occurrence. 
The  buildings,  indeed,  seemed  to  be  taken  bodily  from  over  the  heads 
of  those  within  and  dashed  to  pieces  several  yards  away  from  their 
original  sites. 

Wo  were  late  in  returning  to  our  hotel  for  midday  dinner,  and  this, 
a  grave  fault  on  wcek-da/s,  is,  on  Sundays,  a  crime  which,  if  not 
openly  reprimanded,  demands  some  sort  of  rebuke.  Household 
"help"  in  America  is  quite  as  independent  as  any  other  form  of  la- 
bor, and  a  girl  who  has  bargained  either  to  cook  or  to  wait  at  table 
during  certain  hours  of  the  day  resents  the  tarrying  of  guests  as  a 
breach  of  contract.  Hence  a  certain  acidity  in  our  prim  waitress's 
tone  when  reciting  the  simple  menu,  and  a  notable  increase  in  the 
velocity  with  which  the  young  lady  usually  slung  us  our  food.  We 
took  our  punishment  penitently,  however,  for  the  girl,  if  petulant, 
was  pretty  ;  but  we  dared  not  offer  any  one  of  those  propitiatory 
little  attentions  which  would  have  made  an  English  maid  kind  to 
worse  culprits  than  we. 

Although  the  sale  of  alcoholic  liquors  is  lawful  in  every  state  of 
New  England  except  Maine,  "local  option"  forbids  the  drink  traf- 
fic in  many  towns,  and  this  is' the  case  at  Winsted.  The  Maine 
liquor  law  is  frequently  spoken  of  in  England  as  if  it  were  peculiar 
to  that  state,  and  is  sometimes  accused  of  promoting  habits  of  secret 
drinking.  The  first  idea  is  a  mistaken  one,  as  the  case  of  Winsted 
proves,  while  the  baselessness  of  the  second  supposition  is  best  un- 
derstood by  mixing  with  the  oneratives  of  New  England  generally. 
They,  although  rarely  professed  teetotallers,  are  universally  ab- 
stainers. Beer  is  never  seen  on  the  tables  of  the  houses  where  they 
board,  or  drank  in  their  own  homes.  The  public-house  is  hard  to 
find  in  many  New  England  towns  where  the  sale  of  liquor  is  not  for- 
bidden, the  bar-loafer  is  a  rarity,  and  it  is  quite  impossible  to  meet 
the  slattern,  so  common  in  our  own  streets,  carrying  home  her  jug  of 
"eleven  o'clock." 

The  voters  for  "  no  liquor  "  are.  nsnnlly,  themselreo  wcrking  men. 
It  is  the  clock-makers,  the  scythe-grinders,  the  axle-smiths  and  the 
silk-spinners  of  Winsted  who  have  closed  the  public-house,  but 
American  mill-owners,  storekeepers,  and  farmers  are  almost  unani- 


i 


WINBTBO— A  TEMPERANCE  TOWN. 


«i 


*^. 


mously  in  favor  of  the  temperance  ticket,  and  hold  "  rum  towns  "  in 
horror.  American  operatives  are  advocates  of  temperance  for  a  rea- 
son which  is,  unfortunately,  of  little  applicability  in  Europe.  None 
of  them  begin  life  with  the  expectation  of  being  always  mere  labor* 
ers.  All  intend  to  possess  a  comfortable  degree  of  property  and  in- 
dependence. The  ascent  to  better  circumstances  ia  open,  and  they 
are  very  few  who  do  not  attempt  to  rise.  Even  if  a  man  fails  him- 
self to  escape  out  of  the  position  of  a  wage-earner,  he  has  hopes  for 
his  children,  and  is,  in  the  meantime,  profoundly  convinced  that  the 
chances  of  life  are  improved  almost  as  much  by  sobriety  as  by  edu- 
cation. It  is  his  reasonable  ambition  that  mal(cs  him  the  ally  of  the 
social  reformer,  and  there  is  little  fear  of  his  trying  to  evade  a  law 
which  he  believes  to  be  beneficial  lo  him  and  his.  No  doubt  liquor 
is  sold  on  the  sly  in  teetotal  towns,  just  as  pockets  are  picked,  al- 
though  thieving  is  illegal.  But  offenders  against  sobriety,  in  a  socie- 
ty bent  on  the  practice  of  self-restraint,  will  not  be  many. 

It  is  easy  to  bring  this  conclusion  to  the  test  of  facts  in  the  state 
of  Massachusetts.  Barnstaple,  one  of  its  counties,  has  a  population 
of  thirty-two  tliousand  people,  and  no  liquor  saloons  in  any  of  its 
townships.  Here,  in  a  given  year,  there  were  only  four  convictions 
for  drunkenness.  The  county  of  Suffolk,  on  the  other  hand,  has  one 
drinking  saloon  for  every  hundred  and  seventy -five  of  its  inhabitants, 
and  there,  in  the  same  year,  one  man  out  of  every  fifty  was  convicted 
of  intoxication.  The  case  of  ShcflHeld  is  quite  abnormal  in  New 
England,  but,  comparing  county  with  county  in  the  commonwealth 
of  Alassnchusctts,  it  appears  that  the  number  of  public-houses  and 
the  prevalence  of  crime  advance  almosl  pari  passu. 

The  temperance  reformers  of  Europe  have  spent  much  eloquence 
and  based  much  argument  upon  the  more  or  less  casual  and  scattered 
observations  of  private  individuals  in  endeavoring  to  determine 
to  what  extent  intemperance  influences  the  commissiop  of  crime. 
What  such  advocates  require  to  give  force  to  their  conclusions  is  the 
strength  of  facts,  collected  within  given  limits  of  space  and  time,  and 
collated  in  a  systematic  manner.  These  are  furnished  in  two  re- 
markable reports  of  the  Massachusetts  Bureau  of  Labor  Statistics  for 
1880-1881,  which  dealt  at  great  length  with  the  relations  of  crime 
and  intemperance,  presenting  statistics  of  a,  kind  which  nothing  short 
of  a  royal  commission  could  procure  in  this  country.  It  was  thus, 
in  the  first  place,  shown  that  sixty  per  cent,  cf  all  the  crimes  com- 
mitted within  the  limits  of  the  commonwealth  of  Massachusetts,  dur- 
ing a  period  of  twenty  years,  consisted  of  "rum  offences,"  drunken- 
neoo,  illegal  Ilquur  ueuiiug,  or  liquor  nuisances.  When  this  fact  had 
been  established,  the  bureau  attacked  the  question  of  how  far  drink 
was  concerned  in  the  forty  per  cent,  balance  of  crime  remaining  un- 
accounted for  after  the  first  inquiry.    The  investigation  was  long, 


WINSTED— A  TEMPERANCE  TOWN". 


and,  from  the  nature  of  the  cas6,  a  difficult  one,  but  there  seems  no 
reason  to  doubt  the  accuracy  of  its  very  remarkable  conclusions. 
These,  in  half  a  dozen  words,  declare  that  eighty-four  per  cent,  of  all 
the  crime  committed  in  the  commonwealth  during  the  twenty-year 
period  in  question  was  caused,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  by  liquor. 
Only  sixteen  crimes  in  every  hundred  committed  by  sober  meij ! 
Well  may  the  hard-headed  statistician  lose  something  of  his  judicial 
attitude  m  the  closing  words  of  his  report  on  "Intemperance  and 
Crime. "  "  Those  figures, "  says  Colonel  Wright,  * '  paint  a  picture,  at 
once  faithful  and  hideous,  of  the  power  of  rum,  and  this  investigation, 
by  revealing  the  disproportionate  magnitude  of  offences  due,  either 
directly  or  indirectly,  to  liquor,  calls  for  earnest  attention  at  the  bar 
of  public  opinion  and  by  the  public  conscience  of  this  common- 
wealth." 

The  public  conscience  has  already  shut  up  the  public-house  in 
hundreds  of  New  England  towns.  Let  those  who  are  sincerely 
anxious  to  know  what  results  may  be  expected  from  the  interference 
of  public  option  with  private  privilege  spend,  as  we  did,  a  Sunday  at 
Winsted.  The  order  of  this  village,  the  prosperity  of  its  operative 
population,  the  peace  and  purity  of  their  lives,  the  independence  of 
their  characters  and  simplicity  of  their  manners  will  be  enough  to 
convince  any  unprejudiced  man,  abstainer  or  not,  that  no  greater 
blessing  has  befallen  this  town  than  the  abolition  of  its  liquor 
saloons. 


Chapteh  v. 
among  the  berkshire  hills:  great  barrington. 

It  was  a  glorious  evening  when  we  left  Winsted  to  push  our  way 
westward,  over  the  high  divide  which  separates  the  minor  valleys  of 
the  Naugatuck  and  Mad  River  from  that  of  the  grander  Housatonic. 
For  the  first  half  of  this  journey  the  train  labors  upwards  through  a 
wild  country,  covered  with  birch  woods  and  strewn  with  gneissic 
bowlders,  while  the  reclaimed  pastures  of  scattered  mountain-farms 
skirt  the  railroad  track  here  and  there.  At  the  summit,  fourteen 
hundred  feet  above  sea-level,  stands  Norfolk,  a  trim,  white  town, 
full  of  knitting-mills,  and  surrounded  by  cultivated  land.  The  last 
stretches  widely  on  either  side  of  the  Blackberry  River,  a  brook  near 
Norfolk,  but  soon  swelling  to  a  considerable  stream,  which  flows 
westward  towards  the  Housatonic,  through  a  smiling  valley  of  past- 
ures sprinkled  with  neat  farmhouses.  The  railroad  follows  the 
course  of  this  stream,  keeping,  as  usual,  upon  a  terrace  of  drift  which, 
in  this  case,  is  of  considerable  elevation.  Thence  the  eye  wanders 
down  to  the  sheltered  bottoms,  where  a  line  of  pale  green  willows, 
skirting  the  stream,  announces  the  lagging  spring,  and  up  to  the 
birchen  crests  which  hem  in  this  beautiful  dell. 

Soon  after  leaving  Norfolk  we  came  in  sight  of  the  Taconic  range, 
a  high  and  picturesque  ridge  forming  the  western  boundary  of  the 
Housatonic  valley.  The  sun  had  already  declined,  and  this  chain  of 
dome-like  hills  was  clothed  in  a  garment  of  intense  and  exquisite 
blue,  which  hid  every  detail  of  mountain  structure  and  exhibited  the 
range  as  a  silhouette  of  indigo  upon  a  background  of  primrose  sky. 
Behind  the  clear-obscure  and  enchanting  profile  of  the  hills,  the  misty 
peaks  of  the  distant  Catskills  rose  in  the  evening  air,  reminding  us 
that,  between  their  shadowy  slopes  and  the  blue  Taconics,  the  mighty 
Hudson  was  sliding  to  the  sea,  freighted  with  the  commerce  of  half 
a  continent.  Presently  the  train  whirled  closely  past  one,  then  an- 
other and  another  flaming  iron  furnace,  while,  high  above  our  heads 
the  ashy,  birchen  crests  of  the  Blackberry  Hills  were  streaked  with 
pale  blue  smoke  wreaths,  rising  from  the  scattered  fires  of  charcoal 
hearths. 

After  making  a  junction  with  the  Whiting  River,  which  flows  into 

2* 


^ 


84 


AMONa  THB  BEBKSHIBB  HILLS. 


it  from  the  north,  the  Blackberry  ceases  to  be  a  rapid  stream  and  be- 
gins to  wind  through  a  level,  cultivated  plain  of  considerable  extent, 
one  of  the  intervales  of  the  Housatonic,  across  which  the  train  runs 
for  several  miles  before  striking  the  latter  river.  On  the  way  we 
passed  the  little  town  of  Sheffield,  an  island  of  houses  in  a  sea  of 
ploughed  fields  and  pastures,  shaded  by  giant  elms,  and  the  first  set- 
tlement ever  made  in  the  Housatonic  valley.  Its  site  was  bought,  in 
1734,  from  a  famous  Indian  chief,  named  Konkepot,  for  £460  in 
money,  three  barrels  of  cider,  and  thirty  quarts  of  rum,  while  the  vil- 
lage which  arose  on  the  spot  was  named  after  Edmund  Sheffield, 
Duke  of  Buckingham,  by  Obadiah  Noble,  the  first  white  settler. 
This  intervale  crossed,  the  railroad  sweeps  by  a  wide  curve  into  the 
Housatonic  valley,  whose  course  we  followed  northward,  for  a  few 
miles,  to  Great  Barrington. 

Great  Barrington  is  the  chief  town  of  Berkshire,  the  loveliest 
county  of  lovely  western  Massachusetts,  the  home  at  various  times 
of  Longfellow,  Hawthorne,  Holmes,  Neville,  and  Thoreau,  and  the, 
theme  of  Bryant's  most  melodious  song.  Nowhere  does  the  Housa- 
tonic traverse  such  beautiful  scenery  as  in  its  course  through  the 
Berkshire  Hills.  Here,  along  its  western  borders,  lie  the  chief  domes 
of  the  Taconic  range,  which  rise  to  heights  of  two  and  three  thou- 
sand feet,  concealing  their  massiveness  by  flowing  outlines  and  aerial 
draperies  of  heavenly  blue.  Eastwards,  the  world  is  shut  out  by  the 
Hoosacs,  a  long  spur  of  the  Green  Mountains,  whose  summits  have 
hitherto  been  hidden  from  us  in  the  narrower  valleys.  Each  of  these 
ranges  is  but  one  of  the  many  undulations  constituting  the  AUeghanies, 
which  rise  like  waves  from  the  Atlantic  slope  and  break  towards  the 
west.  Along  the  trough  of  such  an  %arth-billow  the  river  and  the 
railroad  thread  their  way  together,  the  curves  of  the  landscape  on 
one  side  of  the  cars  being  those  of  a  rocky  wave,  which  has,  so  to 
speak,  passed  under  the  track  and  is  travelling  westward,  while  crags 
and  precipices,  on  the  other  side,  represent  the  breaking  crests  of  an- 
other undulation  advancing  from  the  eastward.  Northwards,  span- 
ning the  valley  and  bounding  the  view  in  that  direction,  the  tw:a 
peaks  of  Greylock  rise  majestically,  three  thousand  five  hundred  feet, 
into  the  air.  These  form  part  of  the  Greylock  range,  which  con- 
nects the  Hoosacs  with  the  Taconics  about  the  headwaters  of  the 
river,  making  a  grand  figurehead  for  the  county  of  Berkshire. 

"  Come  from  the  steeps  where  look  majestic  forth,   . 
From  their  twiu  thrones,  the  giants  of  the  north, 
On  the  huge  shapes  that,  crouching  at  their  linees, 
Stretch  their  broad  shoulder?,  rough  with  shaggy  trees. 
Through  the  wide  waste  of  ether,  not  in  vain, 
Their  softened  gaze  shall  reach  our  distant  plain ; 
There,  while  the  mourner  turns  his  aching  eyes 
On  the  bine  monnds  that  print  the  bluer  ekieti, 


- 


AMOITO  THE  BEBKBHIBB  HILLS. 


35 


iMh 


<* 


Nntnre  shall  vrhisper  that  the  fading  view 
O^mightiest  grief  may  wear  a  heavenly  hue."  ^ 

Within  this  mountain  valley  lie  cradled  fat,  grassy  bottoms  and 
wide  terraces  of  fertile  soil,  whence  frequent  villages  and  the  scat- 
tered homes  of  wealth  and  refinement  look  down  upon  the  silver 
stream,  or  up  to  the  blue  hills  that  fence  this  Arcadia  from  the  world. 
Nor  is  manufacturing  industry  absent  from  the  Housatonic,  which 
turns  the  wheels  of  woollen  and  paper  mills  throughout  its  whole 
length. 

Great  Barrington  enjoys  the  distinction  of  being  the  place  where 
England's  right  to  tax  her  American  colonies  was  first  disputed. 
July  the  sixth,  1774,  was  signalized  in  the  county  of  Berkshire  by 
the  meeting  of  sixty  delegates,  duly  elected  by  various  townships, 
for  the  purpose  of  "  considering  the  acts  of  the  British  Parliament, 
made  with  a  view  to  the  raising  of  a  revenue  in  America."  This 
convention  unanimously,  repudiated  the  rights  which  England 
claimed,  and  urged  the  colonies  to  unite  in  a  policy  of  "non-con- 
sumption," whereby,  while  British  goods  were  rigorously  excluded, 
nothing  would  be  done  that  was  "hostile,  traitorous,  or  contrary  to 
our  allegiance  due  to  the  king."  "When,  a  few  weeks  later,  the  royal 
assent  was  given  to  bills  reaffirming  the  powers  of  England  and  im- 
posing the  obnoxious  taxes,  the  dissatisfaction  of  Berkshire  found 
expression  in  an  act  of  actual  contumacy.  The  16th  of  August, 
1774,  was  the  day  and  Great  Barrington  the  place  appointed  for  the 
session  of  the  King's  Court  of  Common  Pleas.  Early  in  the  morn- 
ing a  body  of  men,  assembling  from  all  parts  of  the  county,  took 
possession  of  the  court-house,  filling  it  to  overflowing  and  effectu- 
ally preventing  the  transaction  of  any  business.  The  people,  in  fact, 
refused  to  acknowledge  the  judges'  authority,  and  insisted  on  their 
leaving  the  town. 

Nor  did  the  patriotism  of  Berkshire  exhaust  itself  in  the  resolu-. 
tions  of  a  convention  and  demonstrations  against  the  king's  court, 
but  busied  itself  forthwith  in  raising  regiments  and  making  warlike 
preparations  for  the  hostilities  which  were  felt  to  be  impending. 
And  when,  just  a  year  after  the  event  described,  "  the  embattled 
farmers  "  first  "  fired  the  shot  heard  round  the  world,"  it  was  Berk- 
shire that  caught  its  earliest  echoes.  The  news  of  Lexington,  fought 
on  August  19th,  was  at  once  borne  by  swift  horsemen  to  every  town 
in  New  England.  It  reached  the  county  about  noon  on  the  20th, 
and  by  sunrise  of  the  21st  Colonel  Patterson's  regiment,  of  which 
the  Great  Barrington  minute-men  formed  a  part,  was  marching, 
equipped,  armed,  and,  for  the  most  part,  in  uniform,  to  join  in  the 
coming  struggle  for  national  independence. 


*  Oliver  Wendell  Holmea. 


AMONG  THE  BERE8HIRB  HILLS. 


I  111 


The  town,  as  I  have  said,  is  agricultural  rather  than  industrial  in 
character,  while  farming  has  been,  so  to  speak,  upon  its  trial  for  a 
long  time  past  in  New  England.  The  country  of  the  Pilgrim  Fa- 
thers is  unfavorable  to  agriculture.  Its  hilly  and  often  mountainous 
surface,  its  hard  rocks,  bristling  forests,  and  scanty  soils  offer  a 
field  to  the  plough  very  different  from  that  of  the  treeless  plains 
and  deep  loams  of  the  Middle  and  Western  States.  To  till  the  "  stem 
and  rock-bound "  coasts  of  Massachusetts  £ay  was  a  task  for  the 
stout  arms  and  iron  wills  of  its  first  settlers,  and  would  never  have 
been  attempted,  even  by  them,  if  the  great  natural  meadows  of 
America  had  been  open  then,  as  they  are  now,  to  every  emigrant. 
With  the  entry  of  the  West,  indeed,  upon  the  agricultural  stage  of 
the  world,  farming  in  New  England,  as  in  Old  England,  assumed  a 
new  character.  It  was  no  longer  possible  for  either  country  to  grow 
the  traditionally  "  important  crops  "  to  the  same  advantage  as  before. 
A  change  of  front  became  inevitable,  and  if  now  in  progress,  both 
here  and  there. 

Hence  the  apparent  decay  in  agricultural  interests,  illustrations 
of  which  meet  one  at  every  turn  in  Massachusetts.  We  saw  moun- 
tain farms,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Winsted,  going  begging  for  cus- 
tomers at  a  tenth  of  their  original  cost,  and  found  a  dwindling  pop- 
ulation in  all  agricultural  towns  remote  from  the  markets  furnished 
by  manufacturing  centres.  Rather  more  than  half  the  towns  in 
this  very  county  of  Berkshire,  for  example,  have  lost  fourteen  per 
cent,  of  their  inhabitants  since  1865;  while  in  Middlesex,  the  second 
farming  county  in  the  state,  one  town  in  every  five  has  parted  with 
three  fourths  of  its  people  during  the  same  period. 

Notwithstanding  all  which,  the  agriculture  of  New  England, 
speaking  generally,  is  not  on  the  decline.  The  farmer  has  given  up 
raising  barley,  wheat,  oats,  and  potatoes  in  the  same  quantities  as 
formerly,  but  the  place  of  these  crops  has  been  more  than  filled  by 
an  increase  in  the  production  of  milk,  eggs,  table  vegetables,  and 
small  fruits.  These,  indeed,  are  now  the  important  crops  of  Mas- 
sachusetts. Twelve  times  as  many  eggs  and  forty  times  as  much 
milk  are  produced  in  this  state  than  was  the  case  thirty  years  ago, 
while  the  increase  in  such  crops  as  beets,  carrots,  beans,  cranberries, 
onions,  and  turnips  is  almost  equally  great.  The  total  value  of  the 
farm  produce  of  Massachusetts  has,  indeed,  increased  by  nearly 
twenty  per  cent,  within  ten  years,  a  fact  which  dispels  any  gloomy 
visions  that  might  be  conjured  up  by  empty  farms  around  Winsted 
and  elsewhere. 

New  England  has,  none  the  less,  passed  through  an  agricultural 
crisis,  and  if  she  has  been  spared  an  "  agricultural  depression,"  that 
is  because  the  Yankee  farmer  is  a  schemer  of  the  same  kind,  although 
not  in  the  same  degree,  as  the  Connecticut  man.    Driven  from  the 


l! 


AMONG  THE  BERKSHIRE  HILLS. 


87 


I 


f" 


cultivation  of  the  so-called  important  crops,  he  soon  discovered  oth- 
ers of  even  greater  value,  and  turned  the  wants  of  the  manufacturing 
towns  to  good  account  in  his  efforts  at  self-help.  It  is  in  curious 
contrast  with  this  versatility  on  the  part  of  the  American  freehold- 
ing  farmer  that  our  own  tenant  farmers  have,  during  the  last  twen- 
ty years,  let  a  trade  in  butter,  eggs,  and  poultry,  worth  twenty  mill- 
ions sterling  per  annum,  slip  into  the  hands  of  the  French  and  the 
Dutch. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  the  New  England  farmer  is  a  totally 
different  person  from  the  highly  characterized  Englishman,  with 
whom  most  of  us  have  tramped  the  September  stubbles,  and  some 
of  us  have  dined,  drunk  brandy-and- water,  and  smoked  a  "  church- 
warden "  at  market  tabled.  The  former  is  always,  in  the  first  place, 
a  proprietor.  Tenancy  for  rent  is  practically  unknown  in  America, 
although  men  sometimes  "let"  some  of  their  land  upon  the  "me- 
tayer," or  share  of  profit,  system.  The  farms  are  always  small.  In 
Massachusetts,  for  example,  more  than  half  of  them  are  between 
twenty  and  a  hundred  acres  in  extent,  the  greater  part  of  the  re- 
maining half  are  even  smaller,  while  there  are  very  few  properties 
containing  more  than  three  hundred  acres.  For  every  four  of  these 
farms,  again,  there  are  but  three  laborers,  so  that  we  have  here  a 
state  of  things  diflfering  in  every  respect  as  widely  as  possible  from 
that  tripartite  agricultural  economy,  whose  ideal  perfection  was 
first  discovered  by  Lord  Beaconsfield.  But  whatever  the  theoretical 
advantages  possessed  by  the  English  triad  of  squire,  farmer,  and  la- 
borer, it  is  beyond  all  question  that  the  American  combination  of 
freeholder,  husbandman,  and  help  in  one  man  stimulates  energy 
and  develops  ingenuity  in  a  very  remarkable  manner. 

Our  friend  Mr.  Wheeler,  for  example,  a  descendant  of  Captain 
Truman  Wheeler,  one  of  the  Great  Barrington  minute-men  of  1775, 
is  a  modest  land- owner  and  farmer,  living  in  the  near  neighborhood 
of  his  ancestral  town,  and  an  excellent  type  of  his  class.  Plain  in 
his  dress,  which  is  that  of  a  citizen,  distinguished  by  some  je  ne  sais 
quoi  of  the  soil,  simple  in  manner  and  direct  in  speech,  he  seems  at 
once  an  agriculturist,  a  merchant,  and  a  public  man.  But,  being  a 
farmer,  an  Englishman  thinks  him  most  distinguished  by  that  ex- 
treme readiness  to  entertain  and  consider  new  ideas,  which  is,  per- 
haps, the  most  notable  feature  of  New  England  character. 

The  strength  of  America,  in  Mr.  Wheeler's  opinion,  lies  chiefly  in 
the  farmer  class.  The  love  of  the  homestead  is  a  passion  which, 
united  with  only  moderate  prosperity,  gives  birth  to  a  patriotism 
such  as  neither  the  great  mill-owner,  on  the  one  hand,  nor  the  well- 
paid  operative,  on  the  other,  can  possibly  feel.  But  this  love  of  the 
land  is  accompanied  by  no  corresponding  dislike  of  trade  and  man- 
ufacture, which  the  American  land-owner  encourages  to  the  utmost 


AMOKO  THE  BERKSHIRE  HILLS. 


of  his  power  and  treats  with  the  highest  respect.  Indeed,  since 
competition  with  the  West  has  compelled  the  change  of  face  in  New 
England  farming  of  which  I  have  already  spoken,  Mr.  Wheeler's 
chief  customers  for  dairy  produce  and  table  vegetables  are  the  oper- 
atives of  the  Housatonic  valley.  Employing  scarcely  any  labor 
himself,  he  has  no  quarrel  with  factory  rates  of  wages,  but  is  keenly 
alive  to  the  advantage  of  a  well-to-do  and  numerous  clientele.  New 
England  farmers  are  all  advocates  for  well-paid  labor,  which  they 
have,  curiously  enough,  been  brought  to  look  upon  as  the  result  of 
a  protectionist  policy.  Tliey  do  not  yet  understand,  what  I  hope 
will  become  clear  when  we  come  to  discuss  the  tariff  by  and  by, 
that  American  rates  of  wages  are  determined  by  agriculture  instead 
of  manufacture,  by  free  trade  and  not  by  protection.  That  the 
American  operative  should  credit  his  exceptionally  high  wages  to 
the  "  protection  of  labor  "  is  not  at  all  surprising,  but  it  is  astonish- 
ing to  find  the  intelligent  American  farmer,  who  himself  really  de- 
termines the  wages  rates  of  the  country,  sharing  the  same  delusive 
belief. 

Returning  from  Mr.  Wheeler's  farm  to  Great  Barrington,  wo 
crossed  the  Housatonic  by  a  wide  bridge,  one  of  those  remarkably 
skilful,  if  not  aesthetic,  structures  so  common  in  the  States,  which 
still  bear  the  name  of  "Howe"  trusses,  in  memory  of  the  clever 
Connecticut  carpenter  who  first  devised  these  simple  but  scientific 
wooden  girders.  There  is  a  story  told  about  this  bridge  by  Dr. 
Dwight,  the  chronicler  of  the  New  England  of  the  last  century, 
which  is  as  remarkable  as  it  is  well  authenticated.  "  A  Mr.  Van 
Rensselaer,  a  young  gentleman  from  Albany,  came  one  evening  into 
an  inn,  kept  by  Mr.  Root,  just  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  bridge.  The 
innkeeper,  who  knew  him,  asked  him  where  he  had  crossed  the  river. 
He  answered,  '  On  the  bridge !'  Mr.  Root  replied  that  that  was 
impossible,  because  it  had  been  raised  that  very  day,  and  that  not  a 
plank  had  yet  been  rclaid  upon  it.  Mr.  Van  Rensselaer  said  this 
could  not  be  true,  because  his  horse  had  come  over  it  without  diflS* 
culty  or  reluctance;  that  the  night  was,  indeed,  so  profoundly  dark 
as  to  prevent  him  from  seeing  anything  distinctly,  but  that  it  was 
incredible,  if  liis  horse  could  see  sufficiently  well  to  keep  his  footing 
anywhere,  that  he  should  not  discern  the  danger,  and  impossible  for 
him  to  pass  the  bridge  in  that  condition.  Each  went  to  bed  dissat- 
isfied, neither  believing  the  story  of  the  other.  In  the  morning,  Mr. 
Van  Rensselaer  went,  at  the  solicitation  of  his  host,  to  view  the 
bridge,  and,  finding  it  a  naked  frame,  gazed  a  xaoment  with  astonish- 
ment, and  then  fainted." 

My  companion,  who  had  lately  purchased  a  building  site  of  sin< 
gular  and  romantic  beauty,  lying  upon  the  Housatonic  River,  de- 
sired,  on  our  return,  to  refer  to  his  title,  thus  giving  me  on  oppor* 


AMONa  THE  BERK8HIBE  HILLS.  99 

tiinity  of  seeing  how  the  transfer  of  real  estate  is  managedin  New 
England.  Entering  the  town-hall,  we  found  a  lady,  the  daughter 
of  the  town  clerk,  in  charge  of  the  land  registration  office,  and  in 
one  of  her  big  books  the  required  document  was  found  in  a  few  mo- 
ments. It  consisted  of  a  very  short  deed,  describing  the  boundaries 
of  the  fifteen  acres  in  question,  and  containing  a  contract  to  sell  and 
to  buy  the  same,  the  whole  being  couched  in  perfectly  simple  lan- 
guage. Every  transfer  and  mortgage  of  real  estate  is  recorded  in  this 
succinct  way  in  the  register  of  each  township.  This  contains  a  com- 
plete, intelligible,  and  easily  accessible  history  of  local  land-owner- 
ship, running  back  to  the  first  purchases  made  by  settlers  from  the 
original  Indian  proprietors.  The  fee  for  such  registration  is  one 
dollar,  and  so  easily  can  the  validity  of  titles  be  ascertained  under 
this  system,  that  intelligent  men  frequently,  as  in  the  present  in- 
stance, buy  and  sell  land  just  as  they  would  the  crops  upon  it,  with- 
out the  intervention  of  a  lawyer  and,  therefore,  without  expense. 

That  a  lady  should  be  the  transcriber  and  custodian  of  the  Great 
Harrington  land  register  is  not  a  remarkable  thing,  but  that  we 
should  have  been  able  to  transact  a  piece  of  important  business,  in 
a  public  office,  with  so  much  ease  and  despatch,  and  receive  so  much 
polite  assistance  and  prompt  attention  as  fell,  it  seemed  quite  natu- 
rally, to  our  lot,  struck  me  as  noteworthy.  It  is  indeed  difficult  for 
Englishmen  to  realize  how  truly  the  public  offices  of  America  are 
placed  at  the  service  of  the  people.  One  seems  to  do  officials  an 
actual  kindness,  whether  in  town  halls  or  state  bureaux,  by  ask- 
ing questions,  or  requesting  references  to  public  documents.  Cer- 
tainly, in  the  present  instance,  nothing  could  be  more  agreeable  than 
the  quarter  of  an  hour  of  pleasant  and  instructive  chat  about  the  af- 
fairs of  her  native  town,  to  which  I  was  made  welcome  by  the  cus- 
todian of  its  laud  records,  while  my  companion  was  making  his 
notes. 

Leaving  the  town-hall,  we  took  "supper,"  or  "high  tea,"  as  we 
should  call  it,  in  one  of  the  modest  little  white  houses,  whose  ap- 
pearance I  have  already  endeavored  to  bring  before  the  reader. 
This  was  the  residence  of  Mrs,  Whiting,  a  widow,  and  of  her  two 
daughters,  all  old  friends  and  the  latter  old  school-fellows  of  my 
companion.  We  were  a  pleasant  party  of  six,  and  a  merrier  group 
could  scarcely  have  been  gathered  around  a  simpler  table.  The  last 
might  have  satisfied  a  Savarin,  although  a  mayonnaise  of  salmon, 
buckwheat  cakes  hot  from  the  stove,  maple  syrup,  and  cranberry 
pies  were  its  chief  delicacies.  The  girls  were  a  charming  combina- 
tion of  good  sense  and  gayety,  humorists  by  the  grace  of  God  and 
women  of  affairs  by  the  force  of  circumstances  and  education.  How 
brightly  the  talk  hovered!  now  over  the  affairs  of  the  day,  men  and 
books;  then  over  the  recollections  of  school  life,  to  alight  gently. 


^'/ 


40 


AUONa  THE  BEBKSHIRE  HILLS. 


sometimes,  on  personal  gossip.  But  wlten  matters  of  deeper  inter- 
est asked  attention,  we  found  the  wliole  party  distinguislied  by  a 
habit  of  forming  independent  judgments  and  a  power  of  incisive  ex- 
pression, sucli  as  one  never  meets  with  among  irresponsible,  because 
unemployed,  women. 

For  this,  too,  was  a  home  of  industry,  supported  entirely  by  the 
earnings  of  its  two  daughters,  of  whom  one  was  a  compositor  and  the 
other  a  storekeeper's  clerk.  In  the  trim  little  white  house  there 
was  no  servant,  the  dainty  meal  we  sat  down  to  was  cooked,  the  ta- 
ble set  and  cleared,  by  the  deft  hands  of  our  entertainers  themselves. 
Yet  there  hung  no  shadow  of  a  shade  of  mauvaise  honte  over  their 
bright,  frank  faces,  and  they  were,  indeed,  happily  incapable  of  un- 
derstanding that  any  social  disabilities  could  follow  the  fact  that 
they  earned  an  honorable  living  by  the  practice  of  respectable  hand- 
icrafts. 

Strangely  enough,  as  we  should  think,  these  same  New-England- 
ers,  who  see  no  shame  in  labor,  have  a  pride  of  birth  which,  al- 
though of  a  different  character,  is  more  intense  than  any  existing  in 
Europe.  Fifty  years  ago  there  was  a  strong  and  deeply  seated 
prejudice,  lurking  everywhere  in  the  New  England  mind,  against 
the  cultivation,  in  any  degree,  of  ancestral  or  family  history.  It 
was  regarded  as  a  breach  of  good  taste,  if  not  an  offence  against 
morality,  to  speak  of  an  ancestor  with  anything  approaching  inter- 
est. This  sentiment  was  rooted  in  those  fundamental  ideas  of 
equality  which  underlie  all  American  institutions,  and  so  great  was 
the  fear  of  seeming  proud  or  self-important,  that  men  agreed  in  pro- 
nouncing it  honorable  to  be  ignorant  o'.  their  origin.  This  feeling, 
however,  was  not  absolutely  universal,  even  at  the  period  in  ques- 
tion. More  than  half  a  century  ago  an  octogenanan  New-Eng- 
lander,  one  of  whose  ancestors  had  been  concerned,  even  to  the  em- 
ployment of  force,  in  checking  the  tyranny  of  Andros's  colonial 
government,  said  to  another  distinguished  man,  "  The  time  will 
come,  sir,  when  it  will  be  accounted  honorable  to  have  descended 
from  the  men  r'ho  settled  this  country." 

His  prophecy  has  already  been  fulfilled.  In  the  autumn  of  1844 
a  little  knot  of  antiquarians,  living  at  Boston,  determined  on  the  es- 
tablishment of  the  "New  England  Historic-Genealogical  Society." 
This,  within  the  next  twenty-flve  years,  became  an  important  insti- 
tution, and  has  now  a  handsome  home  in  the  city,  a  library  of  sixty 
thousand  volumes,  members  to  the  number  of  a  thousand,  an  income 
of  |4000,  and  a  property  of  some  $40,000.  Its  influence  upon  the 
state  of  public  opinion  has  been  most  remarkable.  The  first  num- 
ber of  its  journal  appeared  in  1847,  prior  to  which  date  only  thirty- 
two  family  pedigrees  had  ever  been  printed  in  America,  and  these, 
for  the  most  part,  were  limited  in  extent  and  inferior  in  character. 


: 


AMONG  THE  BERKSmBB  HILLS. 


41 


ii 


Since  the  year  1847  more  than  seven  hundred  genealogies  have  been 
printed,  of  which  by  far  the  greater  number  were  produced  in  New 
England,  while  the  histories  of  some  two  hundred  New  England 
towns  have  been  published  by  subscribers  to,  or  readers  of,  the  soci- 
ety's register.  The  magazine  itself  contains  historical  outlines  of 
more  than  five  hundred  English  families  and  more  than  a  thousand 
genealogies. 

No  other  publication  has  ever,  anywhere,  occupied  the  same  field, 
or  undertaken  the  same  work,  and,  probably,  there  is  no  other  peo- 
ple besides  the  Americans  whose  family  history,  for  two  hundred 
and  fifty  odd  years,  is  so  fully  woven  into  its  public  and  private 
records.  It  lives  in  the  notes  of  a  periodical  press,  reaching  back 
through  a  hundred  and  seventy  years,  in  the  ample  archives  of 
towns  and  schools,  in  the  registered  titles  of  landed  property,  in  the 
corporations  of  Church  and  State,  and  in  the  prolific  correspondence 
of  a  social  and  intelligent  people.  The  whole  fabric  of  New  Eng- 
land life  is  sketched  in  the  pages  of  the  Uiatoric-Gemdlogical  Jour- 
nal, and  exhibited  in  a  way  which,  if  fragmentary,  is  truthful  and 
lifelike.  With  these  early  letters,  papers,  and  minutely  detailed 
public  records  in  hand,  it  needs  little  enthusiasm  and  only  a  moder- 
ate fancy  to  transport  one's  self  into  the  very  heart  of  the  coUnial 
times.  We  see,  again,  the  patriarchs  of  the  country  walk  in  *.heir 
quiet  streets,  we  sit  at  their  frugal  board,  ponder  their  profound 
theologies,  and  marvel  at  the  spectacle  of  religious  zeal  com  oining 
with  the  love  of  liberty  to  work  out,  by  their  mutual  action  and  re- 
action, the  great  problems  of  human  freedom  and  religious  toler- 
ation. 

But  it  is  not  in  the  publications  of  this  society  alone  that  the  new 
love  of  family  lore  finds  expression.  Private  individuals  have 
caught  the  infection,  und  the  study  of  genealogy  has  become  a  pas- 
sion. Every  man  investigates  his  ancestry,  and  hundreds  of  pedi- 
grees have  been  printed  for  private  circulation.  Some  of  these  are 
works  of  extraordinary  extent  and  completeness,  the  most  remark- 
able of  them  all  being  a  history  of  the  Whitney  family  of  Connecti- 
cut, and  the  "  Wentworth  Genealogj ."  The  former  is  probably  the 
most  sumptuous  work  of  the  kind  ever  issued,  occupying  three 
quarto  volumes  of  a  thousand  pages  each,  and  leaving  no  wisp  of 
the  "great  cloud  of  Whitneyses,"  covering  the  space  between  1649 
and  1878,  unexamined.  Dr.  Wentworth's  Genealogy  extends  over 
three  volumes,  of  seven  hundred  pages  each,  and  has  cost  no  less 
than  $40,000  in  its  compilation. 

The  culture  of  family  history  in  Europe  is  limited,  almost  entirely, 
to  fixing  the  inheritance  either  of  honorable  titles  or  landed  estates, 
but  the  genealogist  of  New  England  knows  nothiiig  of  the  former, 
and,  since  the  possession  of  land  confers  no  distinction  in  America, 


49 


AMOKO  THE  BERKSHlRB  HILLS. 


only  incidentally  chronicles  the  latter.  He  has,  indeed,  a  higher  aim 
than  to  flaunt  his  titled  ancestry  or  "blue  blood  "  in  the  face  of  the 
world.  The  great  quartos  already  alluded  to  record  the  births, 
marriages,  and  deaths  of  many  Wentworths  and  Whitneys  who  held 
very  humble  positions  in  life,  and  who  yet  illustrated  the  family  vir- 
tues by  conduct.  The  fervent  desire  of  every  Ncw-Englander  is 
to  trace  his  lineage  to  one  among  the  handful  of  God-fearing  and 
courageous  men  who  first  colonized  America.  lie  cares  little  to 
go  back  further  than  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  which  em- 
brace the  history  of  America,  and  rarely  seeks  to  lengthen  his  pedi- 
gree by  research  in  England,  content  if  he  has  sprung  from  the  vir- 
tuous fathers  of  his  own  country. 

With  all  this  in  our  minds  and  on  our  lips,  we  called  next  day, 
after  the  "high  tea"  already  mentioned,  to  say  good-bye  to  our 
friend  Miss  Ruth  Whiting.  We  found  her  at  "case,"  in  the  news- 
paper office,  in  the  neatest  of  dresses  and  most  becoming  of  high 
aprons,  and  left  her  laughing  gayly  at  the  interest  with  which  I  took 
the  following  notes  from  a  volume  of  the  Historic- Genealogical  Soci- 
ety's Journal  to  which  she  was  able  to  refer  us. 

The  name  of  Whiting  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  New  England,  and 
our  fair  compositor  is  easily  traced  back,  through  steps  which  might 
be  tedious  to  recapitulate,  to  the  Rev.  Sydney  Whiting,  an  Eng- 
lish clergyman,  who  married,  in  1639,  the  daughter  of  Sir  Oliver 
St.  John,  Chief  Justice  of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas  in  the  time 
of  our  Commonwealth.  Sydney  Whiting  and  his  wife  went  to 
America  in  1636,  where  he  became  minister  of  Lynn,  Massachu- 
setts. His  wife  was  great-granddaughter  of  Oliver  St.  John,  Bar- 
on Beauchamp,  who,  upon  the  coming  of  his  third  cousin,  Queen 
Elizabeth,  to  the  throne,  was  created  Lord  St.  John  of  Bletsoc. 
Through  her  ancestress,  Margaret  Beauchamp,  grandmother  of 
Henry  VII.,  she  was  descended  from  Gundred,  fourth  daughter 
of  William  the  Conqueror,  who  married  William  de  Warren,  first 
Earl  of  Surrey.  Througli  her  ancestress,  Joan  Plantagenet,  who 
married  Gilbert  le  Clair,  Earl  of  Gloucester,  and  her  ancestress, 
Matilda  of  Scotland,  wife  of  Henry  I.  of  England  and  niece  of 
Edgar  Atheling,  she  was  descended  from  Alfred  the  Great;  and 
through  her  ancestress,  Maud,  wife  of  William  the  Conqueror" 
and  daughter  of  Baldwin,  seventh  Count  ()f  Flanders,  she  was  de- 
scended from  Lewis  the  Fair  and  Charles  the  Bald  of  France, 
and  from  Cuarlemagne,  Emperor  of  the  West,  and  Hildegarde  of 
Swabia,  his  wife. 

Next  to  the  honor  of  entertaining  angels  unawares  must  rank 
that  of  taking  tea  with  unbeknown  princesses,  and  this,  it  seems, 
is  what  happened  to  us  under  the  modest  roof  of  a  clerk  and 
compositor  in  Great  Barrington. 


^ 


Chapter  VT. 
common  schools.— a  town  meeting. 

There  was  no  prettier  siglit  in  Great  Bamngton  than  that  of 
the  scholars  trooping  gayly  along  the  streets  to  the  common  and 
liigh  schools  of  the  town.  This  crowd  of  boys  and  girls,  of  all 
ages  from  five  ^o  eighteen,  white  and  colored,  clean  as  new  pins, 
and  neatly,  not  to  say  expensively,  dressed,  gladdened  our  eyes 
each  morning  as  we  sat  at  breakfast  in  the  Berkshire  House. 
Watching  it,  I  began  to  see  that  equality  is  no  fiction  in  New 
England,  and  to  understand  whence  it  is  born  and  how  bred. 

Every  child  in  the  town  attends  either  the  common  or  high 
school,  according  as  its  studies  arc  more  or  less  advanced.  Here, 
boys  and  girls  sit  together,  learn  together,  and  play  together,  and 
hetfce  they  walk  home  in  friendly  groups,  no  one  having  an  op- 
portunity to  think  him  or  herself  better  than  others.  For  chil- 
dren are  born  democrats,  and  only  become  aristocrats  by  educa- 
tion. The  words,  'Uow"  and  "high"  have  no  meaning  for  lit- 
tle boys  and  girls,  and  cannot  gain  one  in  schools  where  every 
one  receives  the  same  training,  and  all  are  expected  to  behave 
kindly  and  politely. 

The  headmaster  of  the  high  school  made  us  welcome  to  sit  in  his 
class-room  for  a  couple  of  hours,  while  the  ordinary  work  of  the 
school  was  proceeding.  A  mixed  class  of  boys  and  girls,  from  fif- 
teen to  eighteen  years  of  age,  were  "  reciting  "  a  lesson  in  physics, 
which  had  previously  been  learned  at  home,  but  the  teaching  of 
this  subject,  like  1  .at  of  science  in  schools  generally,  was  machine- 
like, facts  occupying  the  place  of  principles,  and  fogginess  of  mind 
resulting  where  illumination  was  sought.  The  translation  of 
Caesar,  which  followed,  was,  however,  well  done,  the  girls  especially 
shining  in  classics  as  much  as  they  had  proved  dull  in  science. 

Adjourning,  after  a  time,  to  the  common  school,  about  whose  re- 
lation to  the  high  school  more  hereafter,  we  found  a  very  bright 
and  earnest  young  lady  teaching  geography  to  a  large  mixed  class 
of  children,  and  scarcely  knew  which  to  admire  most,  the  lively,  in- 
teresting method  of  teaching,  or  the  strict  yet  gentle  discipline  of  the 
teacher.  Then  we  listened  while  a  "  plant  lesson  "  was  given,  and 
this  exercise,  although  treated  as  a  recreation,  was  a  really  scientific 


44 


COMMON  BCnOOLS.— A  TOWN  MEETING. 


bit  of  work.  A  common  groundsel  plant,  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  a 
pencil  was  given  to  every  child  in  the  class,  and  it  was  then  ex- 
plained how  the  essential  parts  of  a  plant  consist  of  roots,  stems, 
leaves,  and  flowers;  the  functions  of  these  organs  were  explained 
and  Illustrated  on  the  blackboard,  reference  being  made  all  the 
while  to  the  specimens  in  tlic  children's  hands.  Finally,  each  schol- 
ar was  told  to  draw  a  plant  vliugrammatically  on  the  paper  and  to 
write  down  ten  words,  descriptive  of  organ  or  function,  which  had 
been  used  by  the  teacher  in  the  course  of  the  lesson.  The  result 
was  extraordinary.  Some  stupid  children,  of  course,  failed  to  get 
any  ideas  at  all  from  the  exercise,  but  the  great  majority  succeeded 
in  satisfactorily  grasping  such  elementary  principles  of  physiolog- 
ical botany  as  it  was  the  teacher's  aim  to  convey.  The  lesson  only 
occupied  half  an  hour,  the  demonstrations  being  very  succinct  as 
well  as  lucid,  but  more  real  knowledge  was  conveyed,  and  the  men- 
tal powers  of  the  children  were  more  strengthened,  during  that 
thirty  minutes  than  if  they  had  committed  to  memory  whole  pages 
of  a  text-book  on  botan/. 

The  American  theory  of  free  public  education  is  summed  up  in 
the  dictum  of  Washington,  that  the  virtue  and  intelligence  of  tlie 
people  are  the  two  indispensable  securities  of  republican  ititutions. 
"Hence,"  says  Horace  Mann,  "the  minimum  of  c         Hon  can 

never  be  less  than  such  as  is  sufficient  to  qualify  each  l ^u  for  the 

civil  and  social  duties  he  will  have  to  discharge;  such  an  education 
as  teaches  the  individual  the  great  laws  of  health,  as  qualifies  for  the 
performance  of  parental  duties,  as  is  indispensable  for  the  civil 
functions  of  a  witness  or  juror,  as  is  necessary  for  a  voter  in  munici- 
pal and  national  affairs,  and,  finally,  as  is  required  for  the  faithful 
and  conscientious  discharge  of  all  those  duties  which  devolve  upon 
the  inheritor  of  a  portion  of  the  sovereignty  of  this  great  republic." 
For,  inasmuch  as  the  sovereignty  of  the  people  forms  the  basis  of 
every  American  institution,  each  individual  is  a  part  of  the  sover- 
eign, and  participates,  equally  with  every  other,  in  the  government 
of  the  state.  Further,  the  individual,  in  a  free  country,  is  the  best, 
as  he  is  the  only,  judge  of  his  own  interests,  and  Society  has  no  right 
to  direct  his  actions  unless  his  conduct  becomes  hurtful  to  her,  or 
until  she  requires  to  summon  him  to  her  aid.  It  is  not  wonderful 
that  the  general  recognition  of  principles  such  as  these  should  have 
lifted  the  question  of  free  education  to  the  highest  place  in  early 
colonial  days,  or  that  the  common-school  system  remains  one  of  the 
capital  institutions  of  the  United  States. 

The  "  township,"  a  district  which  may  contain  one  or  many  towns, 
according  as  population  is  dense  or  sparse,  forms  the  political  unit 
throughout  New  England,  and  stands  in  precisely  the  same  relation 
to  state  government  as  does  the  individual  to  it.    By  the  school 


COMMON  SCHOOLS. —A  TOWN  MEETING.  49 

law  of  Massachusetts  every  township  is  bound  to  provide,  at  its  own 
expense,  a  sufflcicnt  number  of  schools  for  the  instruction  of  all  its 
children  of  school  ago  in  the  three  R's,  the  geography  and  history 
of  the  United  States,  and  the  practice  of  good  behavior,  to  which  ele- 
mentary education  each  school  committee  may  add  higher  subjects 
if  it  thinlc  lit.  These  are  the  common  schools.  Every  township, 
again,  having  more  than  Ave  hundred  householders,  must,  similarly, 
provide  and  maintain  a  second  school,  where  book-keeping,  historj-, 
natural  philosophy,  the  civil  policy  of  America,  and  the  Latin  lan- 
guage are  taught ;  while,  if  the  township  contain  four  thousand  inhab- 
itants, Greek,  modern  languages,  advanced  natural  science,  rhetoric, 
logic,  moral  science,  and  political  economy  must  be  added  to  the 
curriculum  already  defined.    These  arc  the  high  schools. 

The  cost  of  both  common  and  hi^h  schools  is  bonic  by  local  tax- 
ation, supplemented  by  small  grants  from  what  is  called  the  state 
school  fund,  whose  establishment,  in  1834,  was  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant educational  measures  ever  adopted  by  the  commonwealth. 
Previously  to  this  time,  thanks  to  the  jealousy  with  which  Ameri- 
cans guard  the  principles  of  local  self-government,  the  schools  of 
various  townships  were  very  much  isolated,  and  no  one  knew  what 
bis  neighbor  was  doing.  In  the  consequent  absence  of  wholesome 
emulation,  local  parsimony  c  it  down  the  school  appropriations  un- 
'^  til  the  public  schools  seemed  in  danger  of  becoming  pauperized,  and 

the  faith  of  the  people  in  their  value  was  correspondingly  under- 
mined. The  creation  of  the  state  fund,  small  as  it  is,  has  changed 
all  this.  The  grant  depends,  first,  on  proper  annual  returns  being 
made  to  a  body  called  the  educational  board,  and,  secondly,  on  the 
amount  of  the  local  appropriations  reserved  for  school  purposes. 
Although  the  power  of  the  township  over  its  schools  remains  abso- 
lute, and  the  state  can  do  no  more  than  regard  the  progress  of  edu- 
cation with  watchful  interest,  a  general  control  has  thus  been  estab- 
lished which  has  proved  most  beneficial.  All  material  facts  and 
statistics  of  education  are  annually  made  known  to  the  central  board, 
through  whose  agency  every  township  is  kept  acquainted  with  what 
its  neighbors  are  doing.  New  ideas,  gathered  from  many  quarters, 
are  disseminated  by  its  report;  in  this  way  a  spirit  of  emulation  be- 
tween township  and  township  has  been  generated,  and  the  vivifying 
influence  of  intercommunication  introduced  into  the  previously  iso- 
lated school  system. 

Whatever  may  be  the  stimulus  afforded  by  the  state  fund,  the 
main  cost  of  education  is,  however,  borne  by  local  taxation.  The 
amount  of  this  differs  as  widely  as  local  ideas  of  what  constitutes 
an  efficient  school,  but  generally  in  New  England,  the  school  tax 
'  is  about  one  third  of  the  whole  local  rating.  In  the  case  of  Great 
Barrington,  indeed,  it  is  considerably  more  than  this,  the  school  ap- 


46 


COMMON  SCHOOLS. —A  TOWN  MEETING. 


propriations  for  1888  being  no  less  than  |8o00,  out  of  a  total  taxa- 
tion of  $19,700. 

The  schools  are  managed  by  a  committee,  appointed  by  ballot  at 
the  annual  "town  meeting,"  of  which  more  hereafter.  So  far  as 
the  law  is  concerned,  school  attendance  is  compulsory  throughout 
New  England,  but  in  America  "the  law  is  powerless  when  unsup- 
ported by  public  sentiment,"  and  both  truancy  and  absenteeism  are 
too  common  in  great  cities.  It  is,  nevertheless,  good  evidence  of  the 
universality  of  education  in  America  that  it  is  exceedingly  cheap. 
Notwithstanding  the  large  appropriations  already  alluded  to,  the 
cost  of  schooling  per  head  is  very  iL:mall.  In  the  high  schools,  where 
the  teaching  is  suitable  for  boys  who  propose  to  enter  either  the  uni- 
versity, the  professions,  or  commerce,  the  expense  is  about  £5  10«. 
per  annum ;  while  in  the  common  schools  of  the  principal  cities  it 
is  £3  10«.  per  annum.  In  rural  districts  education  is  cheaper  still, 
costing  no  more  than  £1  5s.  a  head  in  the  manufacturing  state  of 
Massachusetts,  and  scarcely  more  than  10«.  per  head  per  annum  in 
the  agricultural  state  of  Illinois.  This  is  one  third  the  sum  which 
our  own  committee  of  council  allow  for  the  education  of  an  Eng- 
lish mechanic  or  laboring  man. 

"  As  with  the  teacher,  so  with  the  pupil,"  is  a  maxim  whose  truth 
is  fully  recognized  in  America,  where  there  are  nearly  half  a  million 
of  these  public  servants  controlling  two  hundred  thousand  schools 
and  eight  millions  of  scholars.  Of  their  general  character  it  is  not 
for  a  bird  of  passage  to  speak  very  fully,  and  I  prefer  to  quote  the 
carefully  formed  opinions  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Fraser,  who  reported  on 
American  schools  to  our  own  government  some  few  years  ago. 
"American' teachers,"  he  says,  "are  self-possessed,  energetic,  and 
fearless,  admirable  disciplinarians,  firm  without  severity,  patient 
without  weakness;  their  manner  of  teaching  lively  and  their  illus- 
trations fertile.  No  class  could  ever  fall  asleep  in  their  hands. 
They  are  proud  of  their  position  and  fired  with  a  laudable  ambition 
to  maintain  the  credit  of  the  school;  a  little  too  sensitive  of  blame, 
and  a  little  too  greedy  of  praise,  but  a  very  fine  and  capable  body  of 
workers  in  a  noble  cause." 

In  spite  of  its  being  poorly  paid,  the  teaching  profession  in  Amer- 
ija  occupies  a  very  high  place  in  popular  esteem.  If  the  teachers  of 
common  schools  do  not  mix  as  freely  in  the  best  society  as  do  our 
masters  of  great  public  schools,  that  is  because  of  their  slender  in- 
comes only.  The  teacher  of  the  humblest  district  school,  on  the 
other  hand,  occupies  a  far  higher  position  than  the  teacher  of  an 
elementary  school  in  England.  They  live  in  a  cheerful  and  refined 
frugality,  entertaining  simply  but  hospitably,  and  enjoying  a  social 
status  very  much  like  that  of  an  English  clergyman. 

Common  and  high  school  life  together  occupy  about  thirteen 


I 


COMMON  SCHOOLS.— A  TOWN  MEETINa.  47 

years,  or  from  the  age  of  five  to  eighteen;  but  there  are  many  chil- 
dren, of  course,  who  never  enter  the  high  school  at  all,  though  their 
too  early  absorption  into  the  farm  or  workshop  is  regretted  by  most 
Americans.  The  schools  are  all  graded,  the  scholars  passing  by  a 
regular  series  of  steps,  from  the  infant,  through  the  common,  into 
the  high  school,  where  the  system  culminates.  The  high  school  may 
or  may  not  fit  its  pupils  for  the  universities,  according  as  the  classi- 
cal course  is  taken  or  omitted,  but  it  can  scarcely  be  said  that  there 
is  a  rung  missing  in  that  "  ladder  from  the  gutter  to  the  university  " 
which  the  best  friends  of  education  in  England  are  so  anxious  to  see 
erected  here. 

The  sexes  are  sometimes  separated  nnd  sometimes  mixed  in  the 
high  schools,  but  are  almost  always  mixed  in  the  common  schools, 
and  there  is  some  diversity  of  public  opinion  upon  this  question  in 
the  States.  De  Tocqueville's  views  on  this  point  are  well  known, 
and  were  powerfully  expressed.  "  If  I  were  asked  to  what  cause  I 
think  the  singular  prosperity  and  growing  power  of  this  people 
should  be  attributed,  I  should  answer,  '  To  the  superiority  of  their 
women,' "  and  that  superiority  he  traced,  in  great  part,  to  the  com- 
mon education  of  the  two  sexes.  No  one  can  fail  to  recognize  the 
force  of  character  and  capacity  for  affairs  of  American  women,  and 
there  can  scarcely  be  a  doubt  that  these  qualities  are  among  the 
*  '  fruits  of  mixed  education.     Hence,  too,  the  much  more  business- 

like relations,  so  to  speak,  between  men  and  women  in  the  States 
than  in  Europe.  Girls  and  boys  understand  one  another  better  and 
appraise  each  other  more  justly  when  educated  together  than  when 
taught  apart.  The  known  is  not  necessarily  "  magnificent,"  like  the 
"unknown," and  young  men  and  women  who  have  spent  ten  or 
twelve  years  of  school  life  together  meet  in  the  world  of  active  life, 
in  which  women  take  so  large  a  part  in  the  States,  without  self-con- 
sciousness or  false  modesty. 

By  the  theory  of  a  common-school  system,  scholars  of  every  rank 
are  received  as  equals,  and  in  the  country  districts,  especially  in 
such  towns  as  those  we  have  already  visited,  almost  everybody  is  ed- 
ucated in  the  public  schools.  But  in  the  great  cities  wealthy  peo- 
ple generally  send  their  children  to  private  establishments,  while  the 
artisan,  storekeeper,  and  farmer  are  in  possession  of  the  common 
school.  The  number  of  academies,  however,  is  comparatively 
small.  There  is  only  one  of  them  for  every  thirteen  public  schools 
in  the  state  of  Massachusetts,  where  only  one  child  in  twenty  is  pri- 
vately educated. 

Religious  freedom  reigns  just  as  absolutely  as  social  equality  in 
every  American  public  school.  It  is  implicitly  forbidden  to  teach 
any  form  of  creed  whatsoever,  and  the  only  religious  exercise  per- 
mitted is  the  reading  of  the  Bible  and  an  opening  prayer.    Upon 


■ 


48 


COMMON  SCHOOLS.— A  TOWN  MEETINO. 


this  matter,  as  upon  that  of  mixed  education,  there  are,  as  may  be 
supposed,  some  differences  of  opinion  among  a  religious  and  denom- 
inational people  like  the  Americans.  And  it  is,  at  first  sight,  re- 
markable that  secular  education  should  prevail  throughout  a  coun- 
try whose  chief  comer-stone,  to  use  De  Tocqueville's  words,  is  the 
"  spirit  of  religion."  But  the  second  and  only  other  foundation  of 
the  national  life  has  been  declared  by  the  same  authority  to  be  "  the 
spirit  of  liberty,"  and  it  is  certain  that  no  stable  institution  whatever 
can  be  built  on  these  two  bases  if  it  is  to  rest  at  all  unequally  upon 
them.  The  patriarchs  of  America  were  religious  in  the  last  degree, 
but  they  loved  their  narrow  creeds  less  than  freedom.  Hence  the 
common  school  is  secular  in  its  character,  although  the  men  who 
founded  it  were  enthusiastic  theologians;  and  there  are  happily,  as 
yet,  no  signs  that  the  fabric  of  free  education  in  America  is  likely 
to  be  inclined  either  this  way  by  fanaticism  or  that  by  license. 

The  object  of  education  in  America  is  not  so  much  the  production 
of  the  learned  man,  or  even  the  good  man,  as  of  the  good  citizen. 
"  Every  American  citizen,"  says  Mr.  Fraser,  "  has  to  play  a  part  in 
the  great  arena  of  public  life,  which,  in  other  countries,  is  reserved 
for  the  governing  class  or  classes.  Hence  the  extent  to  which  the 
study  of  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  pervades  the  pro- 
gramme of  the  schools;  hence  the  continual  appeals  to  support  the 
system  on  national  and  patriotic,  even  more  than  social  and  domes- 
tic, grounds.  As  for  the  school  itself,  it  is  a  microcosm  of  American 
life.  There  reigns  in  it  the  same  freedom  and  equality;  the  same 
rapidity  of  movement  and  same  desire  to  progress,  easily  catching 
at  every  new  idea,  ever  on  the  watch  for  improvements ;  the  same 
appcnls  to  ambition;  the  same  subordination  of  the  individual  to 
the  mass;  the  same  prominence  given  to  utilitarian  over  pursuits  of 
a  refining  aim ;  the  same  excessive  strain  on  the  mental  and  physi- 
cal powers;  the  same  feverishness  and  absence  of  repose."  And  the 
results  are  very  remarkable.  The  political  intelligence  of  the  peo- 
ple is  extraordinary.  Compare  the  knowledge  and  mental  activity 
displayed  by  a  New  England  farmer  or  mechanic  with  that  pos- 
sessed and  exhibited  by  an  Englishman  of  similar  social  station,  and 
the  contrast  would  be  ludicrous.  If  the  benefits  of  this  education 
are  unequally  diffused;  if  the  richest  neighborhood  gets  most  of 
them  and  the  poorest  least;  if  the  attendance  is  irregular  and  the 
mass  of  untaught  large  in  the  great  cities — yet,  notwithstanding 
these  hinderances  which  beset  education  everywhere,  the  common- 
school  system  of  America  "is  contributing  powerfully  to  the  devel- 
opment of  a  nation,  of  which  it  is  no  flattery  or  exaggeration  to  say 
that  it  is,  if  not  the  most  MgMy  educated,  yet  certainly  the  most  gen- 
erally educated  and  intelligent  people  on  the  earth." 

The  township,  as  I  have  said,  is  the  political  unit  in  New  England. 


COMMON  SCHOOLS.— A  TOWN  MEETINO. 


49 


igland. 


This  is  itself  an  inferior  republic,  whose  individual  members  regu- 
late equally  every  local  interest  of  the  community.  The  legislature 
of  each  town  is  composed,  like  that  of  Athens,  of  all  the  inhabitants, 
who  may  be  present  personally  at  a  town  meeting  which  is  held  once 
in  every  year.  Inhabitancy  is  obtained  either  by  birth,  a  vote  for 
the  town,  the  consent  of  the  "  selectmen,"  or  the  holding  of  office. 
The  town  meeting  is  held  under  the  chairmanship  of  a  moderator, 
chosen  for  the  occasion  by  vote,  and  its  proceedings  are  recorded  by 
the  town  clerk.  When  thus  lawfully  assembled  it  has  power  to 
make  all  the  orders,  rules,  and  constitutions  which  concern  the  com- 
mon welfare  of  the  town  and  to  determine  both  the  amount  and  ap- 
propriation of  the  local  taxation.  It  elects  all  the  municipal  officers, 
from  the  town  clerk  to  the  chimney  viewer,  and  chooses  the  select- 
men, who  form  the  executive  and  serve  without  remuneration. 

These  are  usually  three,  and  never  more  than  seven  in  number, 
and  it  is  their  business  to  expend  the  public  money  in  accor(^nce 
with  the  appropriations  made  by  the  town  meeting,  to  see  that  all 
the  public  officers  of  the  town  perform  their  duties  faithfully,  and, 
generally,  to  run  the  town  during  their  year  of  office.  At  the  expi- 
ration of  that  time  they  summon  the  town  once  more,  and,  having 
submitted  a  report  of  their  proceedings,  hold  themselves  ready  to 
account  to  their  fellow-citizens  for  all  their  deeds,  whether  of  com- 
mission or  omission,  before  laying  down  their  authority. 

It  might  easily  be  supposed  that  the  confusion  usually  incident  to 
popular  meetings  would  be  unfavorable,  if  not  fatal,  to  a  legislature 
of  this  kind,  and  it  might,  as  easily,  seem  dangerous  to  intrust  the 
executive  with  such  absolute  powers  as  are  delegated  to  the  select- 
men. The  debates  of  a  town  meeting  often  affect  the  interests  of 
the  inhabitants  as  importantly  as  acts  of  the  state  legislat  ire,  and 
are  generally  much  more  closely  interwoven  with  the  public  happi- 
ness than  these.  Hence  they  have  been  fenced  about,  and  are  con- 
trolled by  very  exact  rules  for  insuring  strict  propriety,  and  are  un- 
der the  direction  of  special  officers.  No  person  speaks  without 
leave.  The  person  who  rises  first  speaks  first,  and  no  one  interrupts 
him.  Voting  is  conducted  systematically  and  with  decorum.  Any 
person  disturbing  the  order  of  proceedings  is  fined,  and,  if  the  of- 
fence is  flagrant,  may  be  brought  before  the  justices  of  the  peace. 
All  the  proceedings  of  these  assemblies  are  matters  of  record,  and 
can  be  re-examined,  complained  of,  and  rectified  at  any  subsequent 
period. 

But  the  chief  cause  of  the  propriety  which  reigns  on  these  occa- 
sions resides,  probably,  less  in  regulations,  however  stringent,  than 
in  ideas  and  habits  formed  in  the  public  schools.  Be  this  how  it 
may,  a  multitude  of  important  matters,  too  numerous  and  unwieldy 
to  be  adjusted  by  the  state  legislature,  are  debated  and  arranged  in 


60 


COBOION  SCHOOLS.— A  TOWN  MEETmO. 


these  people's  parliaments  by  the  very  persons  who  have  most  inter* 
est  in  and  who  best  undei  stand  them.  In  these  schools  men  become 
apprenticed  to  public  life  and  learn  how  to  conduct  public  business. 
He  who  would  be  listened  to,  however,  in  a  town  meeting,  must 
only  speak  when  he  has  something  to  say,  and  then  briefly  and  mod- 
estly, rather  than  ingeniously  and  at  length.  The  habitual  contribu- 
tor, on  the  other  hand,  of  a  grain  of  common-sense  or  ray  of  illumi- 
nation to  the  discussions  of  a  New  England  agora  very  soon  be- 
comes a  marked  man.  Neither  age,  wealth,  nor  self-assertion  will 
be  wanted  to  carry  him,  sooner  or  later,  into  public  office,  which,  in 
this  purer  municipal  life  of  America,  every  man  seeks  instead  of 
shirking.  As  to  the  selectmen,  their  powers,  if  enormous,  are  ex- 
ercised under  checks  of  unusual  efficacy.  The  very  smallness  of 
the  executive  body  encourages  honesty  and  efficiency  in  no  small 
degree.  That  a  corporation  has  "no  body  to  be  kicked  and  no  soul 
to  be  damned "  is  usually  correct  in  proportion  to  its  dimensions. 
No  Aiember  of  a  committee  of  three  can  hide  himself  behind  his  fel- 
lows when  the  day  of  reckoniug  comes,  and  he  stands  before  the  as- 
sembled town  to  give  an  account  of  his  stewardship. 

And  what  a  meeting  it  is  to  face!  Farmers  and  artisans,  such  as 
those  I  have  attempted  to  portray,  form  the  great  majority  of  its 
members,  but  all  the  storekeepers  of  the  town  are  there  as  well,  the 
lawyers,  who  are  never  absent  when  politics,  municipal  or  other,  are 
to  the  fore,  and  the  clergy,  of  course,  for  they,  in  America,  have 
common  interests  with  the  laity.  A  moderator  is  chosen,  and  then 
the  town  officers  are  appointed,  their  names  having,  probably,  been 
previously  agreed  upon  between  the  caucuses  which  direct  the  ac- 
tion of  either  political  party.  The  report  of  the  school  committee  is 
read,  its  year's  work  detailed,  and  its  claims  for  a  liberal  appropria- 
tion put  forward,  with  the  cheerful  assurance  of  tbose  who  know 
they  have  the  entire  sympathy  of  their  audience.  Next,  the  jurors 
are  appointed,  and  after  these  things  have  passed  smoothly  by,  the 
decks  are  cleared  for  action,  the  selectmen's  budget,  so  to  speak,  is 
introduced,  imd  burning  questions  of  taxation  and  expenditure  are 
energetically  discussed.  Lastly,  the  accounts  for  the  past  year  are 
rendered  in  the  utmost  detail  and  scrutinized  with  impartial  severity. 
The  Great  Barrington  triumvirate  of  1883,  for  instance,  had  to  ex- 
plain why  Charles  Mason  got  twenty-five  cents  for  taking  down  a 
certain  image,  and  Edward  Humphry  $6  for  the  care  of  tramps. 
David  McGraw,  again,  had  been  paid  $285  for  his  partial  support 
during  the  year,  while  the  average  cost  of  other  poor  people  had 
only  been  |9  a  head,  and  these  abnormal  expenditures  were  all  duly 
accounted  for. 

But  it  is  over  appropriations  for  highways  and  bridges  that  the 
sharpest  engagements  generally  take  place.    Then,  sometimes,  the 


COMMON  SCHOOLS.— A  TOWN  MEETINO. 


51 


Storekeepers  and  farmers  take  opposite  sides  upon  questions  of  pro- 
posed improvements,  which  seem  to  confer  unequal  benefits  upon 
town  and  country.  When  this  is  the  case,  there  follow  debates, 
often  adjourned  from  day  to  day,  and  distinguished  by  all  the  sa- 
gacity, logical  power,  and  incisive  modes  of  expression  which  char- 
rcterize  the  New-Englander.  The  scene,  under  these  circumstances, 
is  frequently  exciting,  and  always  interesting,  especially  to  strangers. 
An  Englishman,  shutting  his  ears,  might  think  himself  in  a  meeting 
of  his  fellow-countrymen,  mechanics  in  their  Sunday  clothes,  with 
a  few  genuine  Yankee  faces  scattered  here  and  there.  But  the  same 
observer,  with  his  ears  open,  would  receive  very  different  impres- 
sions. He  would  hear  questions  of  considerable  local  importance 
discussed  earnestly,  briefly,  and  sensibly,  although  in  the  simplest, 
and,  sometimes,  in  the  most  primitive  terms;  while  if  the  village 
Hampdens  to  whom  he  listens  are  as  provincial  in  their  appearance 
as  in  their  language,  they,  none  the  less,  behave  like  men  conscious 
of  their  responsibilities  and  accustomed  equally  to  claim  the  rights, 
or  abide  the  restrictions  of  public  speech.  Such  is  a  New  England 
town  meeting,  the  purest  democratic  institution  now  existing  in  the 
world.  It  was  fathered  by  men  whose  heart  of  hearts  spoke  in  pro- 
claiming the  equality  of  man  and  the  sovereignty  of  the  people,  and 
the  heads  of  these  patriarchs  were  in  the  right  place,  equally  with 
their  hearts,  when  they  made  the  common  school  a  training-ground 
for  their  agora. 

I  am  fully  aware  that  this  picture  of  municipal  life  in  New  Eng- 
land differs,  toto  codo,  not  only  from  English  ideals  of  local  self-gov- 
ernment in  America,  but  also  from  the  flagrantly  corrut)t  models 
which  stand  for  its  portrait  in  too  many  cities  of  the  United  States. 
But  political  degradation  in  America  is  only  another  name  for  the 
abstinence  of  her  best  men  from  public  duties,  and  their  too  great 
devotion  to  private  interests.  That  nothing  can  be  worse  than  many 
city  governments  in  America  no  one  will  deny;  yet,  as  the  case  of 
Philadelphia  proves,  the  evil  is  curable  if  only  the  real  leaders  of 
society  will  lead.  A  few  years  ago  Philadelphia  was  the  worst- 
governed  city  in  the  Union.  Its  "  ring  "  was  abler  but  even  more 
unscrupulous  than  were  the  rascals  who,  under  Tweed's  leadership, 
robbed  New  York,  while  the  fact  that  it  consisted  of  persons  who 
were  ostensibly  respectable,  instead  of  open  ruflSans,  only  made  the 
case  more  difficult  to  deal  with.  At  the  time  when  these  men  were 
at  the  height  of  their  power  the  municipal  government  was  corrupt 
from  the  crown  of  its  head  to  the  sole  of  its  foot,  while  the  ring  was 
strong  enough  to  defy  the  efforts  of  the  few  who  strove  to  bring 
about  a  better  state  of  things. 

At  length  the  crying  needs  of  the  situation  thems<^lves  gave  rise 
to  an  organization  called  the  "Citizens'  Committee  of  One  Hundred," 


62 


COMMOK  BCHOOLS.— A  TOWK  MEETIKO. 


which  was  formed  in  1880.  This  was  composed  of  business  men, 
whose  names  were  linown  to  the  whole  city  for  their  honorable  con- 
nection with  leading  mercantile  houses.  Not  a  single  member  was 
a  politician  or  an  aspirant  for  office.  Their  objects  were,  to  main- 
tain the  purity  of  the  ballot,  to  secure  the  nomination  and  election 
of  a  better  class  of  candidates  for  office,  to  prosecute  the  misappro- 
priators of  public  funds,  and  to  promote  a  public  service  based  upon 
character  and  capability  only.  Their  methods  were  simple  and  di- 
rect in  the  last  degree.  They  addressed  circulars  to  every  voter, 
giving,  in  the  plainest  language,  reasons  for  opposing  this  candidate 
and  supporting  that.  Avoiding  all  general  statements,  they  brought 
specific  charges  against  each  city  department  which  they  assailed. 
They  avoided  meddling  with  state  or  national  politics  altogether, 
only  asking  the  voters'  aid  to  reform  abuses  in  the  municipality. 
They  formulated  a  well-considered  plan  for  reorganizing  the  city 
government,  put  it  into  the  form  of  a  bill  to  go  before  the  state  leg- 
islature, and  pledged  legislative  candidates  to  its  support.  They  of- 
fered substantial  money  rewards  for  information  leading  to  the  ar- 
rest and  punishment  of  persons  guilty  of  violating  the  election  laws, 
and,  by  thus  terrorizing  ballot-box  stuffers  and  personators,  made 
honest  elections  possible.  Finally,  they  laia  before  every  voter  a 
clear  and  simple  statement  of  the  cost  of  good  and  bad  government, 
showing  him,  whether  a  great  householder  or  a  mere  lodger,  how 
many  dollars  per  annum  he  personally  paid  for  corruption  in  the 
shape  of  enhanced  taxation. 

In  the  space  of  three  years  the  Philadelphia  Committee  of  One 
Hundred  has  utterly  destroyed  the  power  of  the  ring  and  restored 
the  municipal  government  of  the  city,  if  not  to  the  purity  of  the 
New  England  agora,  then  to  that  high  condition  which  will  become 
general  in  the  states  only  when  the  natural  leaders  of  society  seek 
instead  of  shirking  their  public  duties. 


Chapter  VII. 

PITTBPIELD.— DALTON.— AN  INDUBTRIAL  FIONEBB. 

Still  following  the  valley  of  the  Housatonic,  we  found  ourselves 
iiext  at  Pittsfleld,  another  pretty  Berkshire  town,  of  twelve  thousand 
inhabitants,  lying  in  a  noble  expansion  between  the  Taconic  and 
Qreen  Mountain  ranges.  Here  two  branches  of  the  river  unite, 
but  their  diminished  volume  evidences  that  we  are  now  near  the 
head-waters  of  the  stream  which  we  have  followed  so  far.  We 
have  risen  nearly  twelve  hundred  feet  since  beginning  our  journey, 
and  have  now  reached  a  plateau  whence  the  surrounding  mountains 
lose  much  of  their  grandeur,  and  give  graceful  rather  than  sublime 
outlines  to  the  landscape. 

We  had  already  noticed  in  several  towns  that  the  fashion  of  sur- 
rounding private  houses  with  boundary  walls  and  fences  is  ap- 
parently passing  away  in  New  England,  and  this  revolution  has 
been  actually  accomplished  in  the  best  residential  streets  of  Pitts- 
field.  Their  villa-like  dwellings  are  set  back  some  distance  from 
the  roadway,  and  occupy  a  lawn,  which  is  common  to  them  all. 
This  is  tastefully  planted  with  ornamental  trees,  and  extends  back- 
wards from  the  road  for  a  considerable  distance,  dying  out  in  the 
open  country  beyond.  The  public  footway,  or  sidewalk,  runs,  like 
a  garden-path,  through  the  sward,  and  is  profusely  shaded  with 
maples.  Nothing  can  be  prettier  than  the  general  effect  of  this 
arrangement,  which  gives  the  idea  of  a  large  community  of  friendly 
homes,  scattered  over  the  surface  of  a  wooded  park,  while  trim 
figures  and  bright  dresses,  moving  hither  and  thither  among  the 
trees,  or  grouped  here  and  there  on  the  grass,  lend  a  Watteau-like 
air  to  the  picture. 

The  greater  exposure  of  the  house  to  the  pubKc  view  under  this 
system  is  producing  an  excellent  effect  on  domestic  architecture  in 
New  England.  Tasteful  dwellings  are  becoming  common  where, 
only  a  few  years  ago,  nothing  was  to  be  seen  better  than  the  plain 
or  pretentious  wooden  structures  which  the  fashion  of  the  moment 
favored.  Fashion  in  house  architecture  has  changed  so  often  in 
America  that  it  is  easy  to  recognize  a  succession  of  styles,  extend- 
ing from  colonial  times  to  the  present  day.  In  the  former  period, 
for  example,  the  houses  of  the  wealthy  were  universally  lai:ge 


64 


AN  INDUSTRIAL  PIONEER. 


square  buildings,  having  many  windows,  an  ample  columned  por- 
tico, a  wide  front  door  with  a  shell-shaped  fanlight  above,  and 
moderately  sloping  roofs.  Afterwards  came  a  sham  classic  style, 
lasting  from  about  1810  to  1820,  when  the  plain  citizen  tried  to 
make  his  house  look  as  much  like  the  Parthenon  as  was  possible 
with  pine  boards.  Later  still,  the  Gothic  carpenter  was  let  loose 
in  New  England,  and  he,  between  1845  and  1855,  tacked  crude 
tracery  or  sham  arches  of  plank  to  the  windows  and  gables  of 
every  new  building.  This  style  is  one  of  the  least  happy  efforts 
of  the  American  architect.  Between  1855  and  1865  a  curious  rage 
set  in  for  a  box-like  house,  with  a  flat,  sheet-iron  roof,  overhanging 
like  a  lid,  which,  if  duly  provided  with  hinges,  would  prove  a 
capital  arrangement  for  any  American  Devil  on  Two  Sticks.  This 
fashion  gave  way,  about  1865,  to  an  Italian  villa  style,  distinguished 
by  broken  surfaces,  many  roofs,  and  wide-eaved  towers,  recalling 
memories  of  the  Riviera  in  the  prosaic  streets  of  New  England. 
There  followed,  in  1870,  a  French  house,  with  mansard  roofs, 
dormer  windows,  and  a  profusion  of  surface  ornament,  which  kept 
the  floor  until,  finally,  our  own  Queen  Anne  has  won  all  hearts. 
The  last  change  appears  to  have  resulted  from  the  pretty  buildings 
erected  for  the  English  Commissioners  at  the  Centennial  Exhibi- 
tion, and,  as  the  new  style  has  been  cleverly  used,  and  is,  struct- 
urally, very  suitable  to  wood,  of  which  so  many  houses  are  built 
in  the  States,  it  has  probably  a  long  and  prosperous  life  before  it. 

Passing  through  one  of  the  broadest  and  shadiest  streets  in  Pitts- 
field,  bordered  for  the  most  part  with  courtly  looking  old  colonial 
houses,  we  were  shown  one  which  was  long  the  residence  of  Mr. 
Appleton,  of  Boston,  and  the  home  where  Longfellow  found  his 
wife.  Here,  on  the  landing  of  a  broad,  old-fashioned  staircase, 
stood  the  "  Old  Clock  on  the  Stairs,"  whose  philosophic  pendulum 
still  ticks  a  perpetual  "Forever — never,"  to  listening  life  and 
death,  sorrow  and  mirth,  in  the  poet's  song,  a  song  which  well  de- 
scribes the  kind  of  house  I  have  tried  to  picture  as  typical  of  the 
old  colonial  times: 

"  Somewhat  back  from  the  Tillage  street 
Stands  the  old-fashioned  country  seat. 
Across  its  antique  portion 
Tall  poplar  trees  their  shadows  throw, 
And  from  its  station  in  the  hall 
An  ancient  timepiece  pays  to  all — 
Forever — never ! 
Never— forever !" 

There  is  another  house  in  Pittsfleld  having  a  connection  of  con- 
siderable interest  with  one  of  the  stirring  episodes  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary War.  We  have  already  seen  that  the  Berkshire  folk  were, 
for  the  most  part,  enthusiasts  on  behalf  of  national  independence, 


bi> 


«.!> 


AN  IKDUSTRIAL  PIONEER.  65 

and  that  the  county  militia  was  prompt  in  its  aid  of  the  cause. 
Colonel  James  Easton,  the  commander  of  this  corps,  was  landlord 
of  a  quaint  old  gambrel-roofed  tavern,  standing  in  one  of  the 
shadiest  streets  of  Pittsfield,  in  the  year  1775.  Here,  on  the  evening 
of  a  wild  May-day  in  that  year,  came  Edward  Mott,  with  a  band  of 
sixteen  Connecticut  men,  charged  by  the  legislature  of  that  state 
to  attempt  the  conquest  of  Fort  Ticonderoga,  the  key  of  North 
America,  then  safely  resting  in  the  pocket  of  Britain.  The  wind 
roared  in  the  wide  chimney,  and  the  rain  dashed  in  torrents  on 
the  lattices  of  the  retired  room  in  which  Mott  and  Easton,  with 
Ave  or  six  other  bold  Bcrkshireroen,  held  midnight  counsel  together, 
shaping  the  form  of  this  daring  expedition. 

Before  dawn  of  the  next  morning  these  leaders  had  crossed  the 
Taconic  range,  and  were  joined  in  the  romantic  Hancock  valley — 
first,  by  some  twenty-four  men,  under  the  command  of  Captain 
Douglas,  and  afterwards  by  two  other  small  parties  at  Williams- 
town,  all  moving  under  the  cover  of  night.  Then  began  the  north- 
ward march  into  Vermont,  where  the  whole  expedition  was  placed 
under  command  of  the  dare-devil  Ethan  Allen,  of  New  Hampshire 
fame.  He  reached  the  ferry  at  Ticonderoga  on  the  evening  of  the 
9th,  and  succeeded  in  landing  eighty  men  on  the  opposite  shore 
during  the  night.  At  the  head  of  these  he  marched  to  the  fort,  and, 
having  surprised  the  sentry,  paraded  his  men  within,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  Captain  Laplace's  bedchamber  and  demanded  a  surrender. 
"By  whose  authority?"  exclaimed  the  bewildered  commandant, 
who  knew  of  no  enemy  with  whom  Great  Britain  was  at  war.  "  In 
the  name  of  the  Great  Jehovah  and  the  Continental  Congress,"  re- 
joined Allen,  his  drawn  sword  pointed  at  Laplace's  unguarded 
breast.  The  surprise  was  complete,  and  Ticonderoga,  with  its  gar- 
rison and  stores,  surrendered  to  the  Americans. 

It  was  not,  however,  to  recall  such  events  of  the  Revolutionary 
"War  OS  are  connected  with  tiie  town  of  Pittsfield  that  we  had  trav- 
elled to  the  foot  of  the  Greylock  range.  Our  object  was  to  visit  the 
home  and  mills  of  Mr.  Zenas  Crane,  the  son  of  another  Zenas  Crane, 
who  was  the  pioneer  of  paper-making  in  western  Massachusetts. 

There  were  very  few  manufacturers  of  any  kind  settled  between 
the  Hudson  and  Connecticut  rivers  at  the  beginning  of  this  cen- 
tury. In  the  year  1799,  however,  a  young  paper-maker,  named 
Crane,  started  from  his  brother's  factory,  in  eastern  Massachusetts, 
to  prospect  for  a  site  on  which  to  establish  himself  independently 
in  business.  Setting  out,  as  usual  in  those  days,  on  horseback,  he 
rode  up  through  the  Connecticut  valley,  passing  by  its  magnificent 
water-powers  as  too  vast,  and  the  rapid  streams  of  the  eastern 
Hoosac  slopes  as  too  unruly,  for  his  modest  purposes.  At  length, 
crossing  the  Hoosac  range,  our  industrial  knight-errant  found,  in 


66 


AN  INDUBTRIAL  PIONEER. 


the  valley  of  the  upper  Housatonic,  a  locality  exactly  suited  to  his 
ideas,  and  so,  finally,  halted  at  Dalton,  then  an  agricultural  village 
of  nine  hundred  inhabitants,  about  four  miles  from  Pittsfleld. 
Here,  not  only  was  the  water-power  ample,  but  easily  controlled, 
and,  what  was  still  more  important  to  a  paper-maker,  extremely  pure. 

Dalton  itself  is  situated  almost  in  the  centre  of  Berkshire,  a 
county  then  containing  some  thirty-five  thousand  inhabitants;  while 
Albany,  the  capital  of  New  York  State,  is  only  thirty  miles  away. 
The  combination  of  suitable  water-power  with  a  fairly  dense  popu- 
lation, from  whom  rags  might  be  procured,  and  to  whom  paper 
might  be  sold,  determined  Crane's  choice  of  the  locality,  and,  two 
years  later,  his  first  little  mill  was  ready  for  work. 

We  accordingly  find  in  the  Pittsfield  Sun  of  February  10,  1801, 
the  following  quaint  advertisement,  one  of  a  kind  often  occurring  in 
the  newspapers  of  that  day,  wherever  attempts  were  being  made  to 
establish  native  American  manufactures: 

"  AMERICANS  1 

Bnconrage  yoor  own  Mannfactorieo,  nnd  they  will  Improve. 

Ladies,  eave  your  RAGS  t 

As  the  Snbscrlbera  hnve  it  in  contemplation  to  erect  a  PAPER  MILL  in  Dalton, 

the  enBuiuj;  Sprinj;,  nnd  the  buuinesa  being  very  beneficial  to  the  commnnity  at 

large,  they  flatter  themselves  that  they  shall  meet  with  duo  enconrngement,  and 

that  every  woman  who  hna  the  good  of  her  conntry  and  the  interv  ts  of  her  own 

family  at  largo  will  patronize  them,  by  saving  her  rags,  and  sending  them  to  their 

Manufactory,  or  to  the  nearest  Storekeeper,  for  which  Subscribers  will  give  a 

gencroos  price.  Henry  Wiswbll, 

Zrnas  Cdamk, 
Worcester,  Feb.  8th,  ISOl.  Joun  Willabd." 

Rags,  at  this  time,  formed  the  only  raw  material  for  paper- 
making,  and  home-made  linen  was  the  universal  wear.  This,  un- 
like the  cotton  cloth  of  to-day,  lasted  for  many  years,  but  what 
little  waste  there  was  went  always  into  the  family  rag-bag.  There 
it  accumulated  for  a  long  time,  Pattison,  the  tinman,  not  having 
yet  created  the  wandering  tin-pedler,  and  the  means  of  communica- 
tion being  very  limited. 

At  the  time  when  Zcnas  Crane's  advertisement  first  appeared 
there  were  only  seven  post-offices  in  Berkshire  county,  and  no  pro- 
vision for  the  distribution  of  the  mails  from  these  centres.  People 
sent  for  such  letters  as  they  expected,  until,  after  a  time,  some  en- 
terprising men  undertook  the  business  of  "post-riders,"  carrying 
the  mails,  each  over  a  given  district,  and  delivering  them  from  door 
to  door.  Scarcely  was  this  system  started  than  newspapers  took 
advantage  of  it  to  widen  their  circulation,  and  the  post-riders,  in- 
deed, very  soon  became  pedlers  in  a  small  way.  The  Pittsfield  Sun 
thus  reached  many  a  housewife  living  remote  from  the  mill,  and 
she  soon  began  to  exchange  her  rags  with  the  rider  for  some  trifling 


.. 


fl* 


AM  INDUSTRIAL  PIONEER.  91 

household  commodities.  la  this  way  all  the  early  paper-mills  were 
supplied  with  their  raw  material  for  many  years. 

"The  Old  Berkshire,"  or  Pioneer  Mill,  was  a  small,  two-storied 
building,  whose  upper  floor  was  used  as  a  drying  loft.  Below  was 
a  single  "vat,"  and  enough  of  the  simple  apparatus  used  In  pro- 
ducing handmade  paper  to  turn  out  about  a  hundred  pounds  of 
finished  work  daily.  Writing  and  printing  papers  were  both  made, 
but,  chlorine  being  then  unknown,  rags  were  bleached  by  exposure 
only,  and  every  batch  of  paper  had  its  own  tint,  as  one  may  still  re- 
mark in  turning  over  a  file  of  very  old  newspapers. 

The  first  attempts  of  the  Frenchman  Didot  to  produce  paper  by 
machinery  in  the  form  of  an  endless  web  were  made  in  the  same 
year  that  saw  Zenas  Crane's  settlement  on  the  Housatonic,  b\it  many 
years  elapsed  before  his  "  Fourdrinier  "  machine,  as  it  is  called,  took 
a  practical  shape.  The  old  Berkshire  mill,  indeed,  made  paper  by 
hand  for  thirty  years  after  its  first  establishment,  but  a  cylinder  ma- 
chine was  put  in  about  1831,  to  be  followed,  twenty  years  later,  by 
the  Fourdrinier  apparatus. 

The  number  of  hands  employed  in  the  early  days  of  Crane's  enter- 
prise was  seven;  viz.,  an  engine-man,  a  vat-man,  a  coucher,  all  skilled 
operatives,  earning  wages  of  fourteen  shillings  a  week,  a  lay-boy, 
•^  who  received  half  a  crown  a  week  and  his  board,  and  one  laborer  and 

two  girls,  at  three  shillings  a  week  each  and  board.  Mr.  Crane  was 
himself  superintendent,  and  was  allowed  by  his  partners  to  draw 
thirty-six  shillings  a  week. 

Such  was  manufacturing  enterprise,  and  such,  small  as  they  now 
seem,  were  wages  at  the  beginning  of  this  century  in  Massachusetts. 
The  life  of  the  mill  was  as  simple  as  that  of  the  fields,  and  the  re- 
lations between  employer  and  employed  those  of  cordial  equality. 
The  mill-owner,  indeed,  was  only  a  more  capable  and,  perhaps,  more 
self-denying  man  than  his  fellow-journeymen,  while  both  being 
equally  the  children  of  liberty  and  a  common  education,  the  first 
courses  of  the  manufacturing  system,  now  of  such  vast  extent  in 
New  England,  were  raised  upon  the  same  democratic  foundations  as 
those  of  the  national  life.  We  shall  see  hereafter  what  a  different  state 
of  things  prevailed  in  Europe  at  the  time  when  its  domestic  industries 
gave  way  to  the  factory  system,  and  how  different  was  the  origin  of 
the  latter  institution  in  Europe  and  America.  Hitherto,  indeed,  our 
journey  has  only  added  proof  to  proof  that  the  relations  between 
capital  and  labor  in  western  Massachusetts  are  still  based  upon  mu- 
tual respect  and  consideration,  as  in  the  early  days  of  the  old  Berk- 
shire mill.  Business  has  expanded,  profits  have  increased,  and  wages 
risen  enormously  since  the  settlement  of  Zenas  Crane  on  the  upper 
Housatonic  ;  but  master  and  men  are  on  pretty  much  the  same  terms 
now  as  they  were  then,  throughout  this  home  of  native  American  labor. 

3* 


68 


AN  nn>CtTBIAL  PIOKESn. 


Dalton,  like  Winsted,  is  a  temperance  town,  and  lias,  consequently, 
the  same  air  of  prosperity  and  order  as  characterizes  every  place  in 
New  England  where  the  sale  of  alcoholic  liquors  has  been  made  il- 
legal by  the  act  of  the  people.  Here  the  descendants  of  the  pioneer 
paper-maker  live  in  a  style  that  has  something  almost  patriarchal 
about  it,  the  respective  homes  of  father  and  sons  being  scattered 
about  a  wide,  park-like  property,  all  within  hail  of  each  other.  Tlie 
mill-stream  has  been  artistically  manipulated,  so  as  to  diversify  the 
pretty  wooded  grounds  with  artificial  lakes  and  cascades,  while  the 
opportunities  afforded  by  bold  natural  slopes  of  the  ground  have 
been  turned  to  good  account  by  the  gardener  of  the  family. 

Setting  aside  the  brown-stone  uniformities  which  give  the  fashion- 
able streets  of  New  York  their  air  of  deadly  dulness,  there  are  two 
points  which  impress  an  Englishman  favorably  with  American 
houses.  They  are  almost  always  built  of  wood,  a  material  which  is 
very  susceptible  of  artistic  treatment,  and  they  are  always  surrounded 
by  wide,  shady  verandas,  which  are  simply  delightful  institutions. 
These  are  raised  a  few  feet  from  the  ground,  and,  being  furnished 
with  rocking-chairs,  occasional  tables,  and  vases  of  flowers,  make  the 
pleasantest  summer  lounges  imaginable.  In  the  veranda  one  seems, 
indeed,  to  be  within  the  house  before  the  front  door  is  open,  while 
this,  again,  in  the  absence  of  passages,  admits  the  visitors  at  once  into 
the  heart  of  the  home. 

The  New-Englander  is  fond  of  panelled  rooms  and  parquet  floors, 
to  which  the  native  woods  lend  themselves  with  charming  effect,  and, 
being  usually  a  European  travellcp,  he  picks  up  a  good  many  pretty 
things,  both  meubles  and  bric-d-brac,  in  his  rambles.  Houses  are  al- 
ways warmed  without  fires,  by  means  of  steam-heated  radiators. 
These  are  shallow  metal  boxes,  about  a  yard  square,  fed  with  steam 
from  a  boiler  in  the  basement.  One  or  more  of  them,  according  to 
the  size  of  the  apartment,  is  placed  behind  the  wainscot,  or  under  the 
floor  of  every  room  and  landing,  and  covered  with  a  sliding  ^n7^  for 
regulating  the  temperature.  The  dwelling  is  thus  kept  evenly  warm 
throughout ;  but  the  system  provides  imperfectly  for  ventilation, 
and  is  showing  signs  of  giving  way  before  a  thoroughly  scientific 
plan  for  supplying  warmedfresh  air,  now  being  introduced  into  some 
schoolhouses  and  factories. 

Life  is  agreeably  simple  and  unconventional  in  New  England. 
Early  rising  is  the  rule,  and  breakfast  at  eight,  dinner  at  one,  and 
" supper"  at  six,  the  programme  of  meals.  These  are  all  unpreten- 
tious in  character,  and,  dinner  especially,  short  in  duration.  Men  eat 
to  live,  instead  of  living  to  eat,  and  the  cuisine,  even  when  most  re- 
fined, plays  only  a  minor  part  in  hospitality.  I  suppose  there  is 
scarcely  a  family  in  all  New  England  where  wine  or  beer  is  habitu- 
ally taken,  either  with  or  between  meals.    Men  are  half  ashamed  to 


- 


AV  mDUBTRIAL  PIONEER.  69 

drink,  and  women  think  themselves  disgraced  by  it.  But  wine  is 
kept  in  tlie  house,  as  we  found,  even  in  sober  Dalton,  where  it  was 
quite  funny  to  see  our  kind  Ijost  seeking  private  occasions  to  gratify 
my  English  tastes  without  indecorum.  Books  are  many  and  talk 
plenty  in  tlicsc  pleasant  homes,  and  the  latter,  if  sometimes  solid,  is 
often  very  bright,  and  never  prejudiced  wher*  it  is  a  question  of  new 
ideas.  "  Do  tell!"  is  a  phrase  always  very  near  New  England  lips, 
but  it  represents  intellectual  activity  rather  than  idle  curiosity. 

A  wcU-to-do  New  England  man  prides  himself  probably  less  on  his 
house  than  his  "  barn,"  which  is  no  storehouse  for  crops,  but  only  a 
stable.  Every  one  owns  a  buggy  and  team,  and  men  of  moderate 
^  wealth  keep  many  horses  and  drive  a  great  variety  of  carriages. 

'  Among  these  there  is  always  included  a  prettily  decorated  sleigh,  for 

there  are  three  months'  snow  every  year  in  towns  of  even  less  eleva- 
tion than  Dalton.  The  barn  itself  is  like  a  great  house,  specialized 
for  the  accommodat ion  of  horses  and  carriages.  It  has  doors,  sashes, 
fittings,  a  gas  and  water  supply,  like  those  of  a  dwelling,  and  it  is 
warmed  in  the  same  way  by  radiators.  The  stalls,  instead  of  form- 
ing integral  parts  of  the  building,  are  independent  structures,  shel- 
tered, so  to  speak,  by  the  barn,  and  fitted  with  labor-saving  appli- 
ances for  the  supply  of  food  and  the  removal  of  manure.  The  men 
room  in  a  good  house,  also  part  of  the  building,  while  the  great  car- 
riage-room, as  it  must  be  called,  rather  than  coech-housc,  is  usually 
decorated  with  spirited  pictures  of  horses  and  teams. 

Our  host's  house  elbows  the  paper-mill,  on  our  way  to  which  we 
passed  the  works'  library.  This  is  a  pretty  Queen  Anne  building, 
handsomely  furnished,  and  containing  several  thousand  volumes. 
Its  upper  floor  serves  for  a  news  and  smoking  room,  while  below  are 
the  readers.  The  librarian  is  one  of  the  mill  operatives,  a  bom 
bibliophile  and  a  very  intelligent  man,  whom,  indeed,  I  at  first  mis- 
took for  a  minister  or  a  school-master.  Regarding  him,  the  well- 
dressed  readers  and  the  half-luxurious  room,  one  might  easily  think 
one's  self  in  some  quiet  literary  club.  The  habit,  common  to  all 
American  operatives,  of  washing  and  dressing  after  the  work  of  the 
day  is  done,  gives  an  air  of  cleanliness  to  such  rooms  as  these,  and  a 
respectability  to  their  occupants  which  makes  it  difficult  for  an  Eng- 
lish visitor  to  realize  their  operative  character. 

Free  libraries  are  almost  as  widely  spread  as  schools  in  New  Eng- 
land. There  are  nearly  two  thousand  of  them,  or  one  to  every  eight 
hundred  inhabitants,  in  the  state  of  Massachusetts,  and  a  hundred 
and  nine,  or  one  to  every  six  hundred  and  twenty  people,  in  this 
county  of  Berkshire.  At  Pittsfleld  we  found  a  library  of  seventeen 
thousand  volumes,  magnificently  housed  in  marble,  and  cared  for  by 
a  staff  fully  worthy  of  its  splendid  charge.  At  Waterbury,  again, 
we  passed  without  remark,  but  not  without  examination,  the  "  Bron- 


60 


AN  htdustrial  pioneer. 


8011  Library,"  containing  nearly  thirty  thousand  volumes,  and  pre- 
sided over  by  a  most  accomplished  librarian.  Most  of  these  institu- 
tions originate  in  private  munificence,  which  the  town  meeting  is 
generally  ready  to  supplement  liberally,  even  when  prepared  to  fight 
"to  the  bitter  end "  against  some  highway  or  bridge  rate. 

Thus  the  Berkshire  Atheneeum,  at  Pittsfleld,  to  which  reference 
has  already  been  made,  was  the  gift  of  a  townsman  to  the  town,  while 
the  Waterbury  library  had  a  similar  origin.  Silas  Bronson,  bom  at 
Waterbury  in  1788,  was  a  farmer,  and  the  son  of  a  farmer,  but  being 
of  an  enterprising  disposition,  he  went  South  when  yo^ng,  became  a 
merchant  and  a  rich  man,  dying  in  New  York  at  eighty  years  of  age. 
Always  mindful  of  his  native  town,  which  owed  him,  living,  many 
benefits,  his  will  contained  a  bequest  of  £50,000  for  the  founding  of 
a  library  at  Waterbury,  "and  for  the  sake  of  promoting  the  educa- 
tion and  intelligence  of  this  city,  in  whose  well-being  I  feel  great  in- 
terest, and  to  encourage  and  maintain  therein  that  good  order  and 
those  sound  morals  which  I_deem  largely  dependent  on  intellectual 
and  moral  culture." 

Sentiments  like  these  meet  us  at  every  turn  in  New  England,  and 
are  supported  by  a  practice  as  liberal  as  the  sentiments  themselves. 
Hence,  in  a  great  measure,  the  wonderful  fact  that  there  is  only  one 
in  every  twelve  hundred  persons  born  in  Massachusetts  who  is  una- 
ble to  read  and  write,  while  four  Germans  and  Scotch,  six  English, 
twenty  French  Canadians,  twenty-eight  Irish,  and  thirty-four  Ital- 
ians, out  of  every  hundred  immigrants  of  these  nationalities  respec- 
tively, are  illiterates. 

But  the  factory  doors  arc  open,  a  stream  of  black-coated  men  and 
spruce  girls  is  flowing  back  from  dinner  to  work,  and,  when  in  a 
mill,  it  is  perhaps  as  well  to  see  what  the  mill  does.  Paper,  as  every 
one  knows,  is  made  of  pulped  vegetable  fibres,  which,  before  the  days 
of  machinery,  were  dipped  from  a  vat  by  means  of  shallow  frames, 
covered,  like  a  sieve,  with  woven  wire.  The  mould,  when  filled,  was 
skilfully  manipulated  until  the  film  of  pulp  was  spread  evenly  over 
it,  being  shaken  at  the  same  time  to  facilitate  the  escape  of  the  water. 
The  size  of  the  mould  determined  the  size  of  the  sheets,  and  these 
were  removed,  or  "laid,"  a.. a  on  a  sheet  of  felt,  and  piled  in  a  regu- 
lar heap.  When  six  quires,  or  a  "  post,"  hai  accumulated,  the  pile 
was  put  into  a  screw  press,  which  squeezed  jut  much  water  and  gave 
cohesion  to  the  paper.  The  she^tu  wfre  afterwards  separated, 
pressed  a  second  time,  sized  and  dried  in  a  loft,  packed  and  sent  to 
market. 

The  Fourdrlnier  machine,  already  alluded  to,  revolutionized  paper- 
making,  by  accomplishing  processes  which  under  the  old  system  oc- 
cupied three  weeks  in  as  many  minutes.  The  pulp  from  the  rag- 
engine  is  received  in  a  large  vat,  furnished  with  a  mechanical  stirrer, 


T 


^s- 


4 


AN  INDUSTRIAL  PIONEEK.  61 

which  prevents  subsidence.  From  the  vat  it  flows  through  a  cock, 
whose  opening  determines  the  thickness  of  the  paper,  into  a  long 
trough,  where  it  meets  with  a  quantity  of  water  coming  from  a 
source  to  be  presently  described.  Thence  it  passes  into  a  vibrating 
strainer,  equally  long  with  the  trough,  through  which  the  finest  pulp 
only  passes,  while  knots  and  foreign  substances  are  retained  by  grat- 
ings, as  if  by  a  shaking  sieve.  The  fine  pulp  flows  from  the  strainer 
in  a  wide,  thin  stream,  and  is  caught  upon  an  endless  web  of  gauze 
wire,  which  is  kept  slowly  travelling  forwards,  while  it  receives 
a  slight,  but  rapid,  lateral  shaking.  .  This  facilitates  the  escape  of 
the  water,  and  the  felting  of  the  fibres  themselves,  while  the  liquid 
which  passes  through  the  wire  gauze,  being  itself  charged  with  the 
very  finest  pulp,  is  caught  and  returned  to  the  trough  already  de- 
scribed. 

The  edges  of  the  paper  arc  formed  by  two  endless  india-rubber 
bands  placed  above,  but  travelling  with,  the  wire  cloth,  and  pressing 
slightly  upon  it,  so  as  to  prevent  lateral  spreading  of  the  layer  of  pulp. 
This  becomes  gradually,  but  visibly,  drier  and  more  cohesive  with 
every  foot  of  its  advance,  until  the  gauze  web  presently  traverses  the 
mouth  of  a  vacuum  chamber,  from  vhich  the  air  is  constantly  being 
pumped.  The  film  is  thus  sucked,  as  if  by  magic,  almost  dry,  while 
its  fibres  are  rendered  cohesive  enough  to  allow  of  the  sheet  being 
picked  up  by  the  "wet-rolls,"  one  of  which  is  covered  with  blanket 
for  this  purpose.  These  rolls  give  a  slight  pressure  to  the  pulp  film, 
but  are  kept  wet  to  prevent  its  adhesion  to  the  blanket.  The  newly 
formed  paper  now  coheres  sufficiently  to  allow  of  its  unsupported 
delivery  by  the  wet  rolls  to  the  "press-rolls  " — a  pair  of  solid,  smooth- 
ly turned  iron  cylinders  of  great  weight,  adjustable  by  screws.  Most 
'U.<  of  the  water  is  here  squeezed  out  of  the  sheet,  which  now  passes 

through  a  second  pair  of  press-rolls,  and  then  over  a  series  of  steam- 
heated  "drying-rolls."  Thence  it  issues,  a  continuous  roll  of  paper, 
at  the  rate  of  from  thirty  to  fifty  feet  a  minute,  or  a  thousand  yards 
in  a  day  of  twenty -four  hours.  Of  the  way  in  which  this  paper  is 
sized,  cut,  sorted,  and  packed,  it  might  perhaps  be  tedious  to  speak  ; 
suffice  it  if  this  description  enables  the  fancy  of  readers,  not  tech- 
nically educated,  to  accompany  the  sheet  now  before  their  eyes  on 
the  journey  it  once  made  from  the  pulp-vat  to  the  drying  cylinder, 
through  a  train  of  machinery  as  beautiful  as  any  that  has  ever  been 
devised  by  the  mechanic. 

The  mills  at  Dalton  are  closely  surrounded  by  a  number  of  pretty 
white  wooden  houses,  each  standing  in  its  own  half-acre  plot  of  land. 
These  have  all  been  built  for  their  hands  by  the  Cranes,  and,  when 
not  owned  by  their  inmates,  are  let  at  something  like  six  per  cent, 
rents.  Near  them,  and  forming  part  of  the  mill  grounds,  a  little  park 
has  been  laid  out,  having  shady  walks,  rustic  seats,  and  appliances 

4 


6d 


A17  IKDUSTRIAL  PIONBEB. 


for  out-door  sports.  If  Mr.  Crane  and  his  sons,  representing  capital, 
look  down  upon  this  home  of  labor,  that  is  only  because  of  their  own 
higher  perch  on  the  hill,  for  the  descendants  of  the  pioneer  are  as 
much  the  children  of  equality  as  their  ancestor,  and  prefer  to  live 
among  their  own  people.  This,  perhaps,  is  how  it  came  about  that 
our  host  one  afternoon  invited  us  to  join  him  in  a  friendly  visit  to  a 
sick  operative,  who,  as  he  said,  "might  enjoy  a  chat  with  new- 
comers." 

Once  again,  accordingly,  we  found  ourselves  under  a  roof  similar 
to  those  which  had  already  received  us  at  Waterbury  and  Great  Har- 
rington, and  if  we  cheered  the  invalid,  his  bright  home  and  sensible 
tongue  certainly  delighted  us.  "Have  you  been  able  to  get  out, 
John  ?"  said  our  host,  as  we  took  up  our  hats  to  go.  "  Why,  no,  Mr. 
Zenas  ;  I  haven't  felt  like  walking,  although  this  spring  air  seems  to 
be  calling  me  outside  all  the  time."  "Could  you  manage  a  little 
drive  if  I  sent  the  buggy  down  for  y6u  ?  The  aftem  jon  is  warm 
and  sunny  yet."  "  It  would  tempt  me  to  make  an  effort,  and  I  thank 
you  very  much,"  was  the  unembarrassed  answer  to  a  question  most 
simply,  not  to  say  casually,  put.  Half  an  hour  afterwards,  Jim,  the 
free-spoken,  liveryless,  but  excellent  coachman,  was  at  John  New's 
door,  with  as  good  a  team  as  the  barn  held,  hitched  into  the  same 
buggy  that  had  brought  us  from  Fittsfield  to  pretty,  peaceful  Dalton. 


I 


'€^ 


Chapter  VIII. 


■f 


A  BnAKER  VILLAGE.— COMMUNISM. 

"We  Started,  a  party  of  four,  in  the  buggy  of  a  Pittsfield  friend, 
one  delicious  May  morning,  when  spring  at  last  seemed  come,  to 
cross  the  Taconic  range  and  visit  the  communistic  Shaker  Society 
at  Mount  Lebanon.  Two  mountain  roads  traverse  the  hills  between 
Pittsfield  and  Lebanon  Springs,  where  there  are  mineral  springs  very 
near  the  Shaker  settlement,  much  frequented  by  New  England  vale- 
tudinarians. These  steep,  rough  tracks  are  hewn  through  the  man- 
tle of  birches  which  clothes  the  range,  fringed  with  a  thick  under- 
growth of  pine  and  raspberries,  and  gemmed  just  now  with  the  white 
blossoms  of  the  Alpine  strawberry.  Reaching  the  summit,  after  a 
charming  climb,  we  gained  a  glorious  view  of  the  Catskills,  I'-hose 
serrated  profile  of  faintest  blue  was  scarcely  relieved  on  the  bluer 
sky,  while,  from  our  feet,  the  ground  sloped  gently  down  in  a  suc- 
cession of  grassy  slopes,  traversed  by  minor  ranges  of  hills,  to  the 
wide  valley  of  the  unseen  Hudson. 

The  Taconics  form  the  boundary  line  between  New  York  and 
Massachusetts,  but  the  former  state  originally  claimed  the  Connecti- 
cut River  for  her  eastern  border,  and  the  dividing  line  between  these 
two  provinces  was  long  the  subject  of  bitter  controversy.  But  while 
the  Dutch  settlers  of  New  York,  less  adventurous  farmers  than  trad- 
ers, were  peopling  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  they  neglected  to  extend 
eastward  of  the  Taconic  mountains,  so  that  the  more  enterprisini; 
New-Englanders,  obtaining  possession  by  occupancy,  eventually  es- 
tablished a  right  to  this  portion  of  the  disputed  territory.  They 
pushed,  indeed,  over  the  range  itself,  and,  in  the  attempt  to  occupy 
its  western  flanks,  gave  occasion  for  a  quarrel  which  lasted  many 
years  and  in  the  course  of  which  blood  was  shed  more  than  once. 
The  feud  was,  however,  terminated  in  1773  by  a  mutual  agreement 
that  the  line  should  be  fixed  twenty  miles  east  of  the  Hudson,  where 
it  is  practically  coincident  with  the  ridge  of  the  Taconics.  One  still 
observes  that  the  towns  upon  the  river  are  generally  distinguished  by 
Dutch  names,  such  as  Staatsburg,  Crugers,  or  Yerplanck,  while  almost 
every  place  between  the  river  and  the  boundary  line  was  christened 
in  English  by  the  early  New  England  settlers. 

No  Englishman  will  ever  forget  his  first  glimpse  of  the  Lebanon 
valley.    Descending  the  mountain  road, 


64 


A  SHAKER  VILLAQE.— COMMUNISM. 


"  Ton  stand  snddenly  astonished ; 
You  are  gladdened  unaware  ;*' 

as  a  landscape  is  gradually  disclosed  which  thrills  the  English  trav* 
eller  with  suggestions  of  home.  The  ground  has  the  same  gentle 
curves,  and  rises,  here  and  there,  to  the  same  modest  heights  as  that 
of  a  midland  shire.  There  are  the  same  smooth,  green  fields  and 
trim  fences,  while  clumps  of  birch  and  pine,  scattered  about  the  hill- 
slopes,  recall  many  a  well-known  copse  and  spinney.  The  very 
farmhouses  are  more  irregularly  disposed,  the  orchards  more  system- 
atically planted  than  is  usual  in  America,  while  distant  villages 
nestle  among  the  trees,  just  as  they  do  in  Kent. 

Presently,  threading  one  of  these,  we  found  hard,  smooth  roads 
under  our  wheels,  spotless  houses,  with  a  broom  hanging  at  every 
door,  on  either  hand,  and  such  villagers  as  were  not  afield  sweeping 
or  picking  up  straws  from  the  highway,  which  was  as  clean  as  a 
plate.  At  length  we  reached  Mount  Lebanon,  the  parent  and  prin- 
cipal  Shaker  settlement  in  America,  founded  in  1787,  and,  at  pres- 
ent, presided  over  by  Elder  Frederick  Evans,  the  chief  living  repre- 
sentative of  Shaker  theology  and  polity. 

The  first  thing  to  strike  a  visitor  is  the  extraordinary  cleanliness 
of  the  roads  and  houses,  and  the  extreme  neatness  and  perfection  of 
the  cultivation,  whether  of  fields  or  orchards.  His  attention  is  next 
claimed  by  the  immense  size  of  the  Shaker  dwellings,  plain,  barrack- 
like buildings  of  wood,  painted  white,  each  capable  of  accommodat- 
ing nearly  a  hundred  persons.  Lastly,  he  becomes  conscious  of  a 
profound  and,  so  to  say,  sabbatical  calm,  which  enfolds  the  settlement 
like  an  atmosphere  and  lends  an  air  of  worship  to  every-day  life  and 
work. 

Each  of  the  great  barrack-like  buildings  contains  a  commune,  or 
family  of  from  thirty  to  eighty  members,  consisting  of  men  and 
women,  with  such  children  as  may  have  been  apprenticed  to  the  so- 
ciety. There  are  seven  such  communes  at  Lebanon,  and  of  these 
the  North  Family,  so  called  from  its  position,  is  the  largest.  Tbe 
North  House  has  four  bedroom  stories,  each  sleeping-chamber  ac- 
commodating from  four  to  eight  persons,  and  containing  as  many 
beds  as  it  lias  occupants,  washstands,  a  writing-table,  chairs,  and  a 
stove  for  warming  in  winter.  Near  the  last  is  a  wood-basket,  and 
hanging  above  this  are  the  fire-irons,  a  dustpan  and  brush,  and  a 
small  broom,  aside  from  which  the  walls  of  the  apartment  are  quite 
bare.  The  floor  is  adorned  with  strips  of  a  pretty  carpet,  of  home- 
make  and  sober  color,  while  a  mat  of  similar  material  lies  before 
every  door  in  the  house.  These  are  never  fastened  down,  and  are 
removed  daily,  for  the  purpose  of  sweeping.  Everything  is  in  such 
perfect  order  and  kept  so  delicately  clean  that  an  air  of  refinement, 
not  to  say  luxury,  seems  to  pervade  these  bedchambers,  in  spite  of 


A  SHAKER  TILIJ^OE. — COMMITNISM.  65 

their  absolute  simplicity.  A  wide  hall  separates  the  dormitories  of 
the  men  from  those  of  the  women,  but  the  same  description  applies, 
whether  to  the  ' '  sisters' "  or  "  brothers' "  apartments.  On  the  ground 
floor  are  the  kitchen,  pantry,  storerooms,  and  common  dining-hall, 
distinguished,  like  the  bedrooms,  by  perfect  simplicity  and  absolute 
cleanliness. 

Besides  these  great  caravansaries,  Mount  Lebanon  contains  a  large 
meeting-house  for  public  worship,  stores  for  the  supply  of  commodi- 
ties, an  immense  bam  belonging  to  the  North  Family,  the  sisters'  or 
women's  workshop,  the  men's  or  brothers'  workshop,  in  each  of  which 
various  industries  are  carried  on,  an  enormous  woodshed,  a  house  for 
the  accommodation  of  visitors  and  applicants  for  admission  into  the 
society,  a  great  laundry,  a  sawmill,  gristmill,  and  the  herb  or  extract 
house. 

The  Shakers,  unlike  some  other  communistic  societies  in  America, 
prefer  agriculture  before  manufacture.  They  have,  indeed,  given 
the  latter  a  trial  more  than  once,  but  find  the  simple  labors  and  hab- 
its of  a  farming  people  necessary  to  the  communal  life.  They  cling, 
however,  to  one  industry,  for  which  they  enjoy  a  very  high  reputa- 
tion— namely,  the  preparation  of  drugs  from  vegetable  extracts.  But 
the  herb-house,  if  fitted  with  a  steam  engine,  evaporating  pans,  and 
presses,  has  nothing  of  the  factory  about  it.  "Brother  Alonzo"  is 
the  one  and  only  operative  in  this  fragrant  workshop,  and  he  is  a 
study.  Very  tall,  thin,  and  pale,  having  a  high  forehead  fringed  with 
gray  hair,  which  falls  low  on  his  shoulders  behind,  and  a  face  like 
one  of  Perugino's  saints,  he  greeted  us  with  a  sweet  little  smile,  and 
showed  us  his  premises  and  processes  with  a  soft,  simple  politeness 
that  seemed  hardly  of  this  world.  Alonzo  Hollister  would  have 
been  a  monk  in  the  Middle  Ages  and  might  have  sat  to  Fra  Angelico 
for  his  most  beatific  faces.  It  seemed  fitting,  in  view  of  the  Sunday- 
like air  already  alluded  to  as  characteristic  of  Lebanon,  that  such  a 
man  should  be  the  first  Shaker  we  met.  Looking  into  his  face  and 
listening  to  his  conversation,  we  found  no  difficulty  in  realizing  that 
religious  communism  may  have  the  same  attractions  for  some  sweet, 
sincere,  and  spiritually  minded  men  to-day  as  the  monastery,  whether 
of  the  third  century  or  of  the  Middle  Ages,  had  for  similar  characters 
'  J  in  the  past. 

Leaving  the  extract-house,  we  met  Elder  Evans,  with  whom  one 
of  our  party  was  well  acquainted,  and  in  his  company  we  visited, 
first,  the  great  barn  and  then  the  house  of  the  North  Family,  which 
has  already  been  described.  Frederick  Evans  is  an  Englishman  by 
birth,  and  was  once  a  laboring  lad  on  a  Worcestershire  farm.  He 
came  to  the  United  States  v.'hcn  only  twelve  years  old,  and,  after  try- 
ing life  in  several  socialistic  communities,  joined  the  Shakers  nearly 
fifty-five  years  ago.    Although  without  conventional  education,  ho 


66 


A  SHAKER  VILLAOB.— COmnmiSH. 


is  a  well-informed  man,  who  talks  absolute  common-sense  about 
eveiy  subject  except  religion,  and  impresses  a  new  acquaintance  with 
a  powerful  character,  great  natural  ability,  and  a  strikingly  handsome 
person. 

The  great  barn  is  quite  a  notable  sight.  This  large  building,  nearly 
three  hundred  feet  long  and  fifty  feet  wide,  lies  on  a  hillside,  with  its 
upper  floor  level  with  the  main  road  and  the  ground  floor  opening 
on  the  fields  behind  it.  Here  are  stalls  for  some  seventy  cows,  and, 
above,  are  stores  of  winter  forage,  artificial  manures,  and  agricultural 
implements.  Every  cow  has  her  own  stall,  and  knows  it.  The  herd 
of  handsome  Holsteins  had  just  arrived  from  the  pastures  and  were 
collected  in  the  yard  at  the  moment  of  our  visit.  When  the  barn 
doors  were  opened  each  cow  ran  to  her  stall  and  thrust  her  head  be- 
tween a  pair  of  vertical  wooden  beams,  hollowed  out  to  receive  the 
neck.  These  beams  are  hinged  to  the  floor  and  can  be  opened  or 
closed,  all  together,  by  pulling  a  cord,  thus  releasing  or  securing  the 
whole  seventy  at  a  stroke.  Shaker  cleanliness  rules  as  absolutely  in 
the  barn  as  in  the  house,  while  the  mechanical  arrangements  for  col- 
lecting and  utilizing  all  the  fertilizer  produced  are  perfect.  Indeed, 
it  would  be  difficult  to  say  too  much  in  favor  of  Shaker  agriculture 
generally.  Even  ensilage,  the  latest  farming  improvement,  has  been 
introduced;  while  for  clean,  careful,  and  successful  tillage,  the  Shak- 
ers can  hold  their  own  against  Lincolnshire  itself. 

Returning  from  the  barn  to  the  North  House,  we  met  many  of  the 
brothers  and  sisters  coming  home  from  work.  The  men  were  dressed 
in  long,  light- blue  cloth  coats  and  wide,  stiff -brimmed,  gray  felt  hats, 
beneath  which  their  hair,  worn  long  behind,  fell  down  to  their  shoul- 
ders. The  women's  costume  consists  of  what,  for  want  of  a  better 
word,  I  must  call  bags,  their  shoulders  being  covered  with  white 
capes,  and  their  heads  with  deep  sun  bonnets.  All  were  on  their  way 
to  the  six  o'clock  evening  meal,  and.  Elder  Evans  being  of  our  party, 
we  were  joined,  as  we  passed  through  the  laundry,  by  the  two  sisters 
in  charge,  women  far  past  middle  life,  but  whose  shining  faces  spoke 
more  eloquently 4han  words  of  inward  spiritual  satisfaction.  "I 
cannot  understand,"  said  Sister  Annie,  "  how  it  is  that  so  few  human 
beings  look  for  their  happiness  in  a  life  where  each  is  the  servant  of 
all.  The  world  which  seeks  individual  pleasure  and  possession  finds 
less  satisfaction  than  do  we  in  our  simple  round  of  duty-doing." 

Each  family  eats  in  a  common  dining-room,  the  men  at  one  table, 
the  women  at  another,  and  the  apprentices  at  a  third.  When  all  are 
assembled,  they  kneel  for  a  moment,  and  then  partake  of  the  simple 
meal,  usually  consisting  of  vegetables  only,  in  'silence.  There  are, 
of  course,  no  servants,  but  the  housekeeping  of  a  Shaker  family  is 
very  effectively  managed.  Six  sisters  take  monthly  turns  in  cook- 
ing and  six  others  in  washing,  while  the  supplies  are  given  out  by 


A  SnAKEB  VILLAGE.— COMlfXTKIBM. 


67 


. 


the  deaconesses.  All  rise  at  half-past  four  in  summer  and  half -past 
live  in  winter,  and  eaCi .  person,  after  dressing  and  silent  prayer,  strips 
his  bed  and  then  repairs  to  work.  The  house  is  vacated  throughout 
the  day,  except  by  the  sisters,  who  take  turns  in  making  beds  and 
sweeping.  Breakfast  is  at  six,  dinner  at  twelve,  and  supper  at  six; 
by  nine  all  are  in  bed  and  the  lights  are  out.  Every  evening  is  oc- 
cupied by  some  kind  of  family  meeting.  Mondays  are  given  to  read- 
ijig  aloud,  Tuesdays  to  singing,  "Wednesdays  to  conversation,  Thurs- 
clayt;'  to  religious  service,  Fridays  to  the  practice  of  new  songs  and 
iiymi^s,  and  Saturday  to  the  prearranged  visits  of  small  parties  to  each 
other's  rooms. 

Sunday's  service  is  usually  held  in  the  assembly-hall  of  each  fam- 
ily. Here  there  are  no  seats,  but  the  Shakers  stand  in  two  ranks, 
the  men  separated  from  and  facing  tlie  women.  After  singing,  the 
elder  makes  a  short  address,  the  ranks  are  then  broken,  and  the 
brothers  and  sisters,  forming  separate  squares,  march  round  the 
room  to  a  lively  hymn  tune,  holding  their  hands  before  them  and 
making  a  motion  of  gathering  with  their  arms — "gathering  a  bless' 
ing."  The  march  becomes  a  shuflSing  dance,  whose  precise  and  or- 
derly movements  are  sometimes  broken  by  the  whirl  of  a  troubled 
member  to  the  front,  and  a  subsequent  performance  like  that  of  a 
spinning  dervish.  Now  some  brother,  in  spiritual  distress,  asks  for 
the  prayers  of  the  others,  or  a  sister  delivers  a  message  from  the 
spirit-world,  in  which  the  Shakers  firmly  believe.  Suddenly,  at  a 
signal  from  the  elder,  the  meeting  breaks  up  and  every  one  disperses. 

Being  celibates,  these  people  use  extraordinary  precautions  in  the 
intercourse  of  the  sexes.  It  would  be  tedious  to  recount  the  minute 
regulations  which  govern  the  conduct  of  the  Shakers  in  this  regard, 
but,  so  far  as  a  mere  glimpse  can  reveal  the  character  of  the  society, 
absolute  purity  of  life  appears  to  be  the  rule  at  Mount  Lebanon. 
Such  impressions  as  we  received  on  this  point  were  strengthened  in 
no  small  degree  by  the  fact  that  one  member  of  our  party,  a  Pittsfield 
engineer,  had  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  at  Mount  Lebanon,  fitting 
houses  and  workshops  with  warming  and  other  apparatus,  and  he 
thoroughly  believed  in  Shaker  purity. 

Although  the  Shakers  do  not  toil  severely,  aiming  to  make  work 
a  pleasure  instead  of  a  pain,  they  are  very  prosperous.  They  num- 
ber altogether  about  two  thousand  five  hundred  souls,  settled  in 
fifty-eight  families,  on  eighteen  different  spots  in  the  United  States, 
and  cultivate  nearly  fifty  thousand  acres,  besides  owning  a  great 
deal  of  land  in  distant  states.  Their  religion  is  fantastic  rather 
than  fanatical,  while  themselves  are  commonplace  folks,  utilitarian 
in  their  ideas,  and  without  any  knowledge  of,  or  care  for,  literature, 
art,  or  accomplishments.  They  are  extremely,  not  to  say  phenom- 
enally clean,  honest  in  their  dealings,  humane  and  charitable  in  act. 


68 


A  SHAKER  VILLAGE.— COMMITNISSf. 


While  no  one  among  them  is  rich  or  poor,  no  one  greater  or  less 
than  another,  all  are  secured  from  the  results  of  misfortune  or  the 
advent  of  old  age.  They  are  abstainers  from  alcoholic  liquors,  most 
of  them  abstainers  from  meat.  They  are  celibates,  but  scandal  has 
never  arraigned  the  society;  peace-lovers,  although  many  of  their 
young  people  went  to  the  war ;  and  good  citizens,  to  the  extent  of 
observing  the  laws,  paying  the  taxes,  and  cultivating  well  the  soil  of 
their  country.  Lastly,  while  Shakerism  makes  a  religious  service  of 
man's  daily  life,  it  at  least  practises  the  doctrines  of  the  Mount,  and 
whatever  we  may  think  of  its  mysticism  on  the  one  hand,  or  celi- 
bacy on  the  other,  it  has  created  an  Eden  at  Lebanon  and  peopled 
it  with  commonplace  saints.  As  for  the  fantastic  dogmas  of  its 
founder.  Mother  Ann  Lee,  what  need  to  ransack  the  rubbish-heap 
oi  th'-jiogy  in  the  vain  hope  of  finding  a  pearl?  Some  religious 
idea  or  other  is,  indeed,  to  be  found  at  the  base  of  all  the  communal 
experiments  which  have  ever  been  tried  in  America.  But  these 
have  another  and  much  more  important  foundation-stone  in  the 
deeply  seated  dissatisfaction  which  the  victims  of  adversity  and  op- 
pression, to  say  nothing  of  the  simply  poor  or  simply  thoughtful, 
feel  with  the  existing  constitution  of  society. 

Communism,  as  every  one  proclaims,  is  in  the  air.  .  "  It  is  the 
stock  bogy  of  the  pulpit,  the  press,  and  the  platform,  wherewith 
children  of  a  larger  growth  are  scared  from  peeping  into  the  dark 
places  of  our  social  system.  It  is  the  club  with  which  the  guardians 
of  society  reason,  the  alias  in  public  opinion  of  the  Parisian  petro- 
leuse,  a  social  craze  which  is  diseasing  labor  and  filling  the  minds  of 
working-men  with  dreams  of  an  impossible  Utopia."* 

Well,  lighted  by  the  candle  of  Christian  practice,  the  Shakers 
have  looked  into  these  dark  places,  and  found  no  bogy  there.  They 
have  had  their  little  revolution,  too,  but  rebelling  against  society 
with  churches  and  ploughs  instead  of  fire  and  sword,  they  may  well 
become  our  allies,  although  they  cannot  be  our  leaders^  in  the  great 
social  battle  which  seems  now  everywhere  impending 

Hitherto  we  have  been  travelling  through  happy  valleys,  where 
capital,  the  lion,  and  wages,  the  lamb — or,  if  you  like  it  better, 
reader,  where  wages,  the  lion,  and  capital,  the  lamb — lie  down  to- 
gether in  peace ;  but  our  next  move  will  carry  us  to  the  field  of  an 
industrial  battle  which  lasted  for  nearly  fifteen  years,  and  was  then 
only  patched  by  a  hollow  peace,  which  may  be  broken  again  at  any 
moment.  For,  if  not  generally  in  western  Massachusetts,  then  in 
most  of  the  industrial  cities  of  America,  as  in  Europe,  a  counter- 
current  of  socialism  is  undoubtedly  setting  against  the  sui'face  drift 
of  our  civilization,  pressing  itself  on  the  attention  of  thoughtful 


*  Rev.  Ileber  Newton. 


A  BHAKER  TILL  AGE. -^-COMMUNISM. 


men  and  being,  for  the  most  part,  met  by  an  army  of  Partingtons, 
defiantly  twirling  their  mops. 

What  docs  labor  want?  What  can  communism  offer  it?  These 
were  the  questions  we  discussed  in  the  buggy  as  we  rcclimbed  the 
Taconic  range,  and,  turning  our  unwilling  eyes  from  the  now  pur- 
ple Catskills,  printing  the  glowing  west,  dropped  down  the  dusky 
mountain  path  towards  Pittsfleld,  while  Greylock's  peaks,  stippled 
with  rose-colored  forest,  shone  upon  us  from  time  to  time  through 
gaps  in  the  ghostly  birch  stems  framing  our  homeward  road. 

The  desire  of  labor  is  to  work  for  something  besides  mere  hire, 
and  to  enjoy  that  independence  which,  next  to  their  lives,  men  value. 
We  ourselves  bend  the  education  of  youth  so  strongly  towards  the 
attainment  of  success  in  life,  and  stimulate  the  desire  for  wealth  and 
distinction  so  powerfully,  that  it  is  not  for  us  to  complain  if  labor 
auns  at  our  marks.  On  the  contrary,  every  thoughtful  man  must 
regard  with  interest  any  plans  which  promise  to  extend  the  inde- 
pendence now  enjoyed  by  the  few  to  the  many. 

Energy  and  economy  are  indeed  able,  with  some  assistance  from 
opportunity,  to  raise  the  employed  to  the  rank  of  employer,  and 
hence  the  hopes  which  lighten  the  otherwise  unbearable  lot  of  labor. 
Take  away  those  hopes,  and  the  operative  masses  would  sink  into 
a  condition  of  discontent,  which,  blind  among  the  ignorant,  would 
be  bitter  in  proportion  to  their  intelligence  among  educated  work- 
men, and,  in  either  case,  a  danger  to  the  state. 

But  thrift  itself,  if  the  spring  of  hope  to  a  few,  is  not  the  day-star 
of  labor.  Half  the  sons  of  toil  regard  wage-earning  as  a  fixed  con- 
dition of  society,  and  the  hireling  as  the  enemy  of  his  employer,  with 
whom  he  accordingly  wages  war  over  the  profits  of  industry.  Such 
is  the  position  of  the  trades-unionist,  the  legitimate  son  of  the  com- 
petitive system.  Another  half,  turning  from  a  struggle  for  existence 
in  which  every  man's  hand  is  at  his  brother's  throat,  and  an  equita- 
ble distribution  of  common  earnings  impossible,  would  make  collec- 
tive property  the  solution  of  the  social  question,  and  commur^al  life 
the  ideal  of  man's  existence. 

The  last  are,  however,  confronted  with  the  fact  that  modem  cirili- 
zation  rests  upon  the  institution  of  private  property,  and  that  neither 
law  nor  society  can  conceive  of  any  other  order  of  things.  Until 
our  own  generation,  the  ablest  students  of  social  science  considered 
the  Roman  dominium,  the  right*iof  the  individiial  to  have  and  to 
hold,  as  a  "law  of  nature,"  and  no  one  even  suspected  that  the 
foundations  of  private  property  are  really  laid  in  common  own- 
ership. This,  indeed,  was  already  deeply  buried  in  its  own  ruins 
when  Rome  planned  the  shape  and  formulated  the  law  of  the  mod- 
em world,  and  it  was  reserved  for  explorers  like  Laveleye,  Nasse, 
Mayer,  and  Sir  Henry  Maine  to  discover  the  debris  of  common  prop- 


asE 


•asa 


T 


70 


A  SnAKEB  VILLAGE.— COMMUNISJif. 


crty  beneath  the  first  courses  of  private  property.  The  labors  of 
these  men  have  now,  however,  established  the  fact  that  individual- 
ism was  everywhere  preceded  by  communism,  whose  living  exam- 
ples the  Slavic  mir,  the  Swiss  aUmend,  as  well  as  the  moribund  Eng- 
lish common,  are  only  survivals  of  an  organism  once  universally 
flourishing. 

These  institutions,  like  a  Shaker  village,  picture  a  past  when  ev- 
ery one  had  access  to  the  soil,  when  fellowship  lightened  the  labors 
of  the  field,  and  the  commonwealth  shared  equally  in  the  common 
store.  Such  were  the  conditions  of  life  in  the  "Qolden  Age"  of 
collective  property,  among  the  family  communities  of  the  Middle 
Ages  in  Europe;  such  they  remain  in  the  Slavonian  village  and 
Swiss  forest  cantons,  and  such,  in  principle,  if  varied  in  details  to 
suit  an  industrial  age,  are  those  which  the  communist  seeks  to  re- 
store. 

But  the  possibilities  of  communistic  living  were  as  powerless  to 
satisfy  the  average  man  in  the  past  as  they  are  at  Mount  Lebanon 
to-day.  Only  the  simplest  or  saintliest  natures  can  breathe  the  at- 
mosphere of  a  society  where  nothing  stimulates  aspiration  or  fires 
ambition,  and  where  equal  rewards  await  unequal  capacities. 
Hence,  as  human  nature  became  virile,  individualism  asserted  it- 
self more  and  more  strongly,  until,  at  length,  communism  fell  into 
ruin,  as  savagery  itself  had  previously  done  upon  the  development 
of  the  family  life.  Wealth  and  power  were  the  first-born  children 
of  individualism,  while  material  progress  and  intellectual  vigor  are 
its  younger  sons.  To  name  all  its  nobler  offspring  would  be  to  cata- 
logue the  achievements  of  law,  literature,  science,  art,  and  culture; 
to  blnzon  the  deeds  of  heroes,  the  lives  of  saints,  and  the  deaths  of 
martyrs. 

But  if  man's  head  is  among  the  stars,  his  feet  are  in  the  gutter. 
A  few  live  in  luxurious  ease,  while  the  many  toil  for  wages  which 
approach  starvation  point  whenever  trade  is  dull.  Employers  and 
employed,  properly  friends,  quarrel  over  the  division  of  profits  and 
are  always  at  secret  or  open  war.  The  law  of  the  market  is  su- 
preme over  the  law  of  the  Mount.  Charity,  masquerading  as  hu- 
man-kindness, seeks  to  redress  wrongs  inflicted  by  denials  of  the 
law  of  love.  Science  seeks  new  victories  among  distant  worlds, 
while  poverty  inhabits  a  fever  den.  Culture  ennobles  the  intellect, 
poetry  the  emotions,  and  art  the  taMe  of  the  few,  while  illiteracy  is 
rampant  among  the  masses.  What  wonder  if,  from  the  squalid- 
splendid  temple  of  civilization,  the  cry  goes  up  for  a  new  social 
contract,  for  a  new  saviour  of  society?  What  wonder,  when  the 
creeds  of  centuries  are  cracking  all  around  them,  that  men,  looking 
for  a  deliverer,  should  say,  "Lo,  hfi  is  here,  "or  "Lo,  there  I"  while 
the  Prince  of  Peace  still  tarries? 


T 


A  SHAKER  TILLAOE.— COMHinnSSft. 


71 


While  the  few  implore,  the  many  menace.  German  socialism, 
French  communism,  Russian  nihilism,  English  trades-unionism,  and 
American  discontent  mass  themselves  more  and  more  definitely  over 
against  the  existing  order.  No  common  standard  floats,  as  yet, 
above  the  sulicn  forces  of  labor,  which,  indeed,  threaten  the  over- 
throw before  they  have  planned  the  reconstruction  of  society.  The 
proletariat  sees  its  enemy  imperfectly,  but  feels  the  evils  of  life  very 
keenly,  and,  turning  angrily  upon  society  at  large,  declares,  with 
Sam  Weller,  "Who  it  is,!  don't  know;  but  this  I  do  know,  some- 
body ought  to  bo  whopped  for  this."  The  question  in  all  men's 
mouths  is,  "Who  will  negotiate  a  peace  with  labor  before  a  new 
terror  paralyzes  or  destroys  civilization?" 

It  might,  indeed,  at  once  be  said  that  the  peacemaker  is  at  hand, 
but  the  metaphors  of  war,  well  as  they  seem  to  fit  some  conditions 
of  society,  must  always  fail  of  application  to  that  which  is  really  a 
process  of  evolution.  The  struggle  for  existence,  whether  of  organ- 
ized beings  or  human  institutions,  is  not,  properly  speaking,  a  battle 
at  all.  "  Force,"  as  Karl  Marx  says,  "is  sometimes  the  aceotteheur 
of  an  old  society  pregnant  with  a  new  one,"  but  there  are  no  lists  set 
in  which  the  new  does  the  old  to  death.  On  the  contrary,  just  as 
the  age  of  invertebrates  passed,  successively,  into  that  of  fishes,  rep- 
tiles, mammals,  and  man,  so  the  last,  already  barbaric,  communistic, 
and  competitive  by  turns,  seems  about  to  acquire  a  new  social  form. 
It  is  a  birth  and  not  a  battle  for  which  the  nineteenth  century  waits. 
"What  will  the  new  order  be?"  and  not,  "Who  will  save  society?" 
is  the  true  question  of  the  hour. 

And  it  may  be  discussed  without  alarm  even  by  timid  thinkers. 
The  savage,  the  family,  and  the  ego  have  all  alike  failed  to  create  a 
stable  condition  of  society,  and  the  irov  ana  of  civilization  is  yet  to 
find.  Meanwhile,  evolution  never  looks  back.  The  roads  which 
lead  towards  the  unknown  future,  whether  of  life  or  society,  are 
countless  in  their  direction  as  well  as  in  their  number,  but,  branch 
as  they  may,  these  never  return  upon  themselves. 

Hence,  while  no  one  desires  a  relapse  to  the  condition  of  primitive 
man,  the  communist  vainly  hopes  to  restore  the  golden  age  of  collec- 
tive property,  and  the  trade-unionist  dreams,  as  vainly,  of  victories 
yet  to  be  won  by  hands  over  heads.  Already,  indeed,  the  age  of  in- 
dividualism is  passing  into  that  of  associated  action,  and,  economi- 
cally speaking,  the  change  from  the  old  order  to  the  new  has  begun. 
Capital  co-operates  in  the  joint-stock  company.  Private  property, 
for  its  own  preservation  and  increase,  is  developing  into  associative 
property.  Co-operative  stores,  building  societies,  credit  banks,  even 
co-operative  manufactures,  are  springing  up  with  marvellous  rapid- 
ity in  Europe,  and  begin  to  make  an  appearance  in  America,  where* 
at  present,  the  evils  of  individualism  are  but  little  felt.    The  im- 


n 


A  SnAKER  VILLAGE.— COMMUNISM. 


I  i 


! 


mcnsity  of  these  great  corpomtions  is  a  measure  of  the  wcahh  that 
is  being  created  and  held  in  common. 

But  if  capital  has  mastered,  more  quickly  than  labor,  the  lesson 
that  union  is  wealth  as  well  as  strength,  it  was,  none  the  less,  labor 
that  first  discovered  the  principle  of  co-operation.  A  few  flannel- 
weavers,  cotton-spinners,  and  shoemakers  of  Rochdale,  who  had  no 
means  but  pence,  and  no  sense  but  common-sense,  had  the  sagacity, 
forty  years  ago,  to  see  that  industry,  which  creates  all  wealth,  can 
retain  its  own  by  taking  all  who  labor  with  it  into  partnership.  This 
humble  but  adventuious  band  opened  its  first  petty  and,  as  then  ap- 
peared, absurd  store  in  1844,  and,  by  that  act,  became  the  accou- 
clieura  of  a  new,  or  the  saviours  of  the  old,  society,  as  trust  or  mistrust 
may  regard  tlie  situation.  "  Who  then  dreamed  that  these  obscure 
persons  would,  in  1872,  cause  the  shopkeepers  in  every  high  street 
of  every  town  in  the  British  empire  to  cry  to  members  of  Parlia- 
ment, praying  to  be  rescued  from  the  Red  Sea  of  co-operation  which 
threatens  to  submerge  forever  all  the  tawdry  chariots  of  higgling 
and  huxtering  ?"  * 

Only  a  few,  even  now,  dream  that  this  same  co-operation,  a  weak- 
ling forty  years  ago,  but  a  giant  to-day,  will  eventually  arrange  that 
in  every  combination  of  labor-lender  and  capital-lender  the  produce 
of  profit  shall  be  distributed  in  agreed  proportions  over  all  engaged 
in  creating  the  profit.  The  difficulties  in  the  way  of  this  are  not 
more  serious  than  those  which  the  Rochdale  pioneers  of  1844  have 
already  conquered,  and  the  greatest  of  them  is  personal  interest. 
Economists,  however,  declare  that  prices,  profit,  and  interest  are  al- 
ready slowly  sinking  towards  a  minimum;  or,  in  other  words,  that 
the  limits  of  individual  fortunes  are  gradually  narrowing.  Great 
fortunes,  it  is  true,  are  still  accumulated,  but  the  greatest  are  illegiti- 
mate, and  one  Jay  Gould  does  more  mischief  to  individualism  than 
a  whole  platform  of  socialist  orators.  The  shrinkage  of  interest, 
again,  only  indicates  the  activity  of  social  forces  whose  resultant 
will  be  the  abolition  of  the  non-productive  classes,  the  realization 
of  Paul's  ideal,  "  Qui  non  laborat,  non  manducet." 

But  "  I  have"  will  not  do  battle  with  "we  have,"  although  there 
may  be  a  stage  combat  between  them.  As  the  social  change  now  in 
question  proceeds,  "owners  of  capital,"  to  quote  John  Stuart  Mill 
"will  gradually  find  it  to  their  advantage,  instead  of  maintaining 
the  struggle  with  such  work-people  as  are  not  already  absorbed  into 
co-operative  associations,  to  lend  to  these  associations."  In  this  way 
"existing  accumulations  of  capital  might  honestly  and  spontane- 
ously become  the  joint  property  of  all  who  participate  in  their  pro- 
ductive employment,  a  transformation  which  would  be  the  nearest 


*  O.  J.  Ilolyoake,  "  History  of  Co-operation." 


A  SHAKER  TILLAGE.— COMMUKIBM. 


9S 


approach  to  social  justice  and  tlie  most  bcneflcial  ordering  c-f  indus- 
trial affairs  for  tlie  universal  good  which  it  is  possible  at  present  to 
foresee." 

For  co-operation  "seeks  no  plunder,  causes  no  disturbances  in  so- 
ciety, gives  no  trouble  to  statesmen,  enters  into  no  secret  associations, 
needs  no  trades-union  to  protect  its  interests,  contemplates  no  vio- 
letAse,  subverts  no  order,  envies  no  dignity,  accepts  no  gift,  nor  asks 
for  any  favor  ;  keeps  no  terms  with  the  idle  and  breaks  no  faith  with 
the  industrious.  It  has  its  hand  in  no  man's  pocket,  and  does  not 
intend  that  any  hands  shall  remain  long  or  comfortably  in  its  own. 
It  means  self-help,  self-dependence,  and  such  share  of  the  common 
competence  as  labor  shall  earn  or  thought  can  win."  * 

As  communism,  offering  an  uncongenial  home  to  character,  begot 
competition,  with  whom  justice  cannot  dwell,  so  competition  is  be- 
getting co-operation,  in  whose  kingdom  progress  will  not  be  accom- 
panied by  undeserved  poverty.  "  Each  for  all,"  instead  of  "each  for 
each,"  will  yet  bo  the  watchword  of  industry,  and  the  device,  let  us 
hope,  for  that  flag  of  discontented  labor  which  still  wants  a  motto. 
The  long  convict  between  capital  and  labor  draws  to  a  close,  and  the 
treaty  of  peace  between  these  old  foes  will  be  a  deed  of  industrial 
partnership.  "  Beyond  all  dreams  of  the  golden  age  will  be  the 
splendor,  majesty,  and  happiness  of  the  free  peoples  when,  fulfilling 
the  promise  of  the  ages  and  the  hopes  of  humanity,  they  shall  have 
learned  how  to  make  equitable  distribution  among  themselves  of  the 
fruits  of  their  common  labor."  f 


•  G.  J.  Holyoake,  ••  History  of  Co-operatiou." 

t  Hon.  Abram  Hewitt,  Speech  on  opeuiug  of  Brooklyn  Bridge. 


Chapter  IX. 

NORTH  ADAMS.— AN  INDUSTRIAL   BATTLE. — WILLIAM8T0WN. 

"  We  are  mined  by  Chinese  cheap  labor." 

Leaving  Pittsfield  for  North  Adams,  the  most  northerly  manufac- 
turing town  in  Massachusetts,  the  railway  soon  crosses  the  watershed 
of  the  Housatonic  and  strikes  the  sources  of  the  Hoosac  Hirer. 
These  have  been  artificially  collected  into  an  immense,  lake-like  res- 
ervoir, the  reliance  in  dry  seasons  of  every  mill  on  this  busy  stream, 
which  flows  northward  until  it  is  well  behind  the  Greylock  range, 
i^round  whose  feet  it  wheels  towards  the  west  to  pour  through  a  gap 
in  the  Taconics  on  its  way  to  the  mighty  Hudson.  The  Hoosac  is 
still  a  baby  river  when  it  begins  work,  and  its  course  is  so  steep  that 
it  runs,  so  to  speak,  out  of  one  factory  into  another,  dancing  over  its 
bowlder-strewn  bed  whenever  the  mill-owner  lets  it  out  to  play. 

North  Adams,  a  town  of  fifteen  thousand  souls,  lies  upon  the  west- 
ward sweep  of  the  stream,  and  seems  almost  buried  among  the  hills, 
so  closely  and  steeply  is  it  environed  by  tvie  spurs  of  the  Greylock 
range.  The  mountains  assume  a  very  different  appearance  here  to 
ihat  which  they  wear  at  Pittsfield.  There  the  ol-jerver  stands  on 
the  summit  of  a  great  swell  of  land,  itself  nearly  twelve  hundred  feet 
high,  anJ  whose  base  extends  from  the  Sound  to  the  St.  Lawrence,  ris- 
ing from  which,  the  highest  peaks,  whether  of  the  Greylock,  Taconic, 
or  Hoosac  ranges,  form  mere  gracefully  flowing  lines  in  the-  land- 
scape. But  at  Adams  the  Hoosac  valley  is  four  hundred  feet  lower 
than  that  of  the  Housatonic  at  Pittsfield,  while  the  hills  themselves, 
instead  of  standing  remote  from  the  stream,  press  closely  upon  it,  to 
the  great  gain  of  the  scenery  in  grandeur. 

There  are  many  industries  in  Adams — cotton-mills,  print-works, 
paper-factories,  and  boot  and  shoe  shops  ;  but  it  is  only  the  latter 
which  we  have  come  to  see.  Not  that  the  town  is  noted  for  this  par- 
ticular manufacture,  but  because  of  the  interest  attaching  to  an  at- 
tempt made  here  some  years  ago  to  introduce  Chinese  labor  into  a 
Massachusetts  manufactory.  Before  telling  the  story,  however,  some- 
thing must  be  said  about  American  boot  and  shoe  shops,  the  parents 
of  our  own  great  establishments  at  Leicester  and  Northampton. 

The  making  of  boots  and  8);oes  was  one  of  the  earliest,  and  is  one 
of  tiie  most  important  of  American  industries.    Setting  milling  and 


AN  IKDUSTBIAL  BATTLE. 


75 


meat-packing  aside,  as  being  agricultural  rather  than  mechanical  in 
their  character,  boot  and  shoe  making  is  only  surpassed  in  impor- 
tance by  the  cotton,  clothing,  lumber,  and  iron  and  steel  industries 
of  the  country.  Cotton  is  king  in  America,  as  in  England,  so  far  as 
the  employment  of  labor  is  concerned ;  but  Saint  Crispin  counts 
seventy  followers  for  every  hundred  of  King  Cotton's  subjects.  In 
value  of  products  iron  and  steel  are  supreme  among  American  man- 
ufactures, but  the  shoemakers  only  lack  eighteen  per  cent,  of  the 
ironmasters  and  eight  per  cent,  of  the  cotton-lords  in  the  money's 
worth  of  their  goods.  Considerably  more  than  half  of  this  immense 
business,  worth  in  the  aggregate  nearly  forty  millions  of  pounds 
sterling,  is  monopolized  by  the  state  of  Massachusetts,  where  more 
than  seventy  thousand  people  earn  their  living  by  the  last,  a  sixth  of 
this  number  being  centred  in  one  place,  the  old  fishing-village  of 
Lynn,  near  Boston. 

Lynn  has  been  distinguished  for  this  branch  of  industry  almost 
from  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims  in  1620.  The  first  English  shoe- 
makers to  settle  there  were  Philip  Eirtland  and  Edmund  Bridges, 
who  arrived  in  1635.  But  they  were  preceded  in  Massachusetts  by 
Thomas  Beard  and  Isaac  Rickman,  passengers  in  the  Mayfloxtcr,  as 
we  learn  from  a  letter  to  the  Deputy-governor  of  the  New  England 
Company,  dated  London,  1629 : 

"Thomas  Beard,  a  shoemaker,  and  Isack  Rickman,  being  both 
recommended  to  vs  by  M'  Symon  Whetcombe  to  receive  their  dyett 
and  house  roome  at  the  charge  of  the  Companie,  we  have  agreed 
they  shall  be  w""  you  the  Governor,  or  placed  elsewhere,  as  you  shall 
think  good,  and  receive  from  you  their  dyett  and  lodging  for  w""  they 
are  to  pay,  each  of  them,  at  the  rate  of  £10  p'  ann".  The  said  Thos  : 
Beard  hath  in  the  ship,  the  May  Flower,  divers  hydes  both  for  soles 
and  vpp  leathers  w""  hee  intends  to  make  into  botes  and  shoes  there 
in  the  country." 

To  return  to  Lynn.  Shoemaking,  begun  by  Kirtland  and  Bridges 
in  the  seventeenth,  made  great  strides  in  the  eighteenth  century,  un- 
der the  influence  of  a  Welshman  named  Adam  Dagyr,  who,  by  the 
excellence  of  his  shoes,  soon  made  this  business  the  most  important 
industry  of  the  town.  Lynn  was,  and  still  is,  essentially  a  fishing- 
station,  and  this  circumstance  assisted,  strangely  enough,  to  deter- 
mine its  industrial  destiny.  The  colonial  fisherman,  like  the  colonial 
housewife,  was  great  at  self-help.  As  she  produced  all  the  family 
homespun,  so  he  made  his  own  watertight  boots,  and,  when  his  fish- 
ing-gear was  laid  aside  for  the  winter,  he  took  naturally  to  the  last 
as  a  source  of  additional  income. 

Until  within  the  last  thirty  years  shoes  were  made  entirely  by  hand, 
and  a  shoemaker's  shop  in  Massachusetts  consisted  of  a  framed  and 


76 


AK  INOU8TBIAL  BATTLE. 


shingled  shanty,  about  ten  or  twelve  feet  square,  containing  from 
four  to  eight  "  berths,"  as  the  spaces  occupied  by  the  workmen  were 
called.  The  introd-  ction  of  the  pegging-machine  was  the  first  step 
towards  the  factory  system,  as  the  next  consisted  in  the  invention  of 
the  shuttle  sewing-machine,  patented  by  Elias  Howe  in  1846.  By 
these  two  machinea  the  production  of  each  operative  was  enormously 
increased,  and  when  they  were  followed  by  the  MacKay  stitcher, 
which  sews  the  toles  and  uppers  together,  and  thus  supersedes  the 
cobbler's  awl,  a  revolution  in  shoemaking  was  accomplished.  In 
1845,  while  boots  and  shoes  were  etill  made  entirely  by  hand,  four 
hundred  anrt  fifty  pairs  per  operative  per  annum  was  the  Lynn  rate 
of  produnion.  Twenty  years  later,  when  comparatively  few  of  the 
mechanical  appliances  now  in  use  had  been  introduced,  this  number 
rose  to  six  hundred,  while  in  1875,  as  at  the  present  time,  twelve 
hundred  pairs  of  shoes  per  annum  constitutes  the  out-turn  for  each 
factory  hand. 

The  shoe  factories,  whether  of  Lynn  or  Adams,  are  large  and  hand- 
some buildings,  fitted  with  all  the  refinements  which  we  found  and 
described  in  the  shops  of  the  Naugatuck  valley,  and  equipped  with 
most  ingenious  automatic  machinery.  Beginning  at  the  bottom,  or, 
in  other  words,  with  the  sole  leather,  we  follow  this  into  a  room 
where  it  is  cut  by  a  system  of  revolving  knives  into  strips  of  the  re- 
quired length  and  width.  The  strips  are  sorted  for  quality,  and, 
after  being  packed  ir  bundles  of  sixty  pairs  each,  are  carried  to  the 
"stock-fitting"  room.  Here  they  are  run,  first,  through  a  splitter, 
which  reduces  them  to  a  uniform  thickness,  and  then  between  a  pair 
of  rollers,  whose  henyy  pre? jure  solidifies  the  leather  nnd  accom- 
plishep  work  f(»rmeriy  done  by  the  lapstone  and  hammer.  The  soles 
are  next  cut  to  shape  by  steel  dies  pressing  upon  a  wooder  block, 
which  rotates  in  such  a  manner  ibat  each  die  makes  seven  hundred 
cuts  before  descending  for  a  second  time  upon  the  same  spot.  The 
outer  sole  is  then  successively  channelled,  u.r  grooved,  ready  for  the 
MacKay  stitcher,  moulded,  or  shaped  to  the  bottom  of  the  last,  la- 
belled, numbered,  and  sent  away  to  await  a  meeting  with  the  uppers. 
These,  after  being  stamped,  like  the  soles,  from  calf  or  other  leather, 
find  their  way  to  a  room  which  is  full  of  sewing-machines,  driven  by 
power  and  attended  by  women.  Here  fashion  determines  how  far 
ornamental  stitching  shall  be  carried,  and  the  beautified  products  are 
next  handed  over  to  the  trimmers,  who  fit  them  either  with  elastic 
sides,  buttons  and  buttonholes,  or,  assisted  by  a  most  ingenious  self- 
acting  eyeletting  machine,  with  lace-holes. 

Soles  and  uppers  are  now  ready  to  meet,  which  they  do  in  the 
"bottoming "  department.  The  first  operation  is  called  "lasting ;" 
the  uppers  being  placed  on  a  last  and  tacked  to  the  inner  soles,  after 
which  the  outer  soles  arc  added  and  secured  with  a  few  nails,  while 


AN  INDU8TBIAL  BATTLE. 


r? 


the  tacks  are  removed.  The  boot  or  shoe  is  now  ready  for  the  Mac. 
Kay  sewing-machine,  which  stitches  five  hundred  pairs  of  soles  and 
uppers  in  a  day.  Leaving  this  macliine,  tlie  "cliannels"  are  ce- 
mented, and  the  boot  or  shoe  passed  tlirougli  an  apparatus  which 
lays  these  smoothly  over  the  stitching,  subjecting  each  sole  at  the 
same  time  to  an  immense  pressure,  and  thus  adding  to  the  solidity  it 
has  already  acquired  in  passing  through  the  compression  rollers. 

The  goods  are  now  ready  for  the  heels,  which,  being  first  drilled, 
are  next "  loaded  "  by  hand  with  the  requisite  nails,  and  then  fastened 
to  the  sole  by  a  single  stroke  of  a  machine  contrived  for  this  purpose. 
The  heels  are  shaved  by  a  self-acting  knife,  their  edges  trimmed  and 
burnished  by  on„,  and  those  of  the  soles  by  another,  special  tool,  after 
which  the  bottoms  are  scoured,  first  upon  revolving  sanded  rollers 
and  then  upon  others  loaded  with  fine  butflng  powder.  Lastly,  the 
"  waists  "  are  blacked  and  burnished,  the  inner  soles  lined,  and  bows, 
trimmings,  or  tassels  added,  as  required,  leaving  the  goods  ready  for 
the  packing-case  and  the  market. 

As  we  have  already  seen,  trade-unionism  plays  but  a  small  part  in 

termining  the  relations  between  American  employers  and  native 
American  labor,  and  that  because  of  the  equality  which,  in  New 
England,  always  characterized  this  relationship  in  the  past,  and  does 
so  still,  to  a  very  great  extent,  especially  in  Connecticut  and  western 
Massachusetts.  But,  with  the  growth  of  the  factory  system  and  con- 
sequent expansion  of  business,  native  labor,  whether  in  the  States 
generally  or  in  New  England,  has  become  more  and  more  largely  di- 
luted with  a  foreign  element.  Of  the  effects  already  produced  and 
in  course  of  production  by  this  cause,  more  hereafter  ;  it  will  be 
sufficient  for  present  purposes  to  say  that  nearly  forty  operatives  in 
every  hundred  employed  in  the  American  shoe  trade  are  of  alien, 
chiefly  of  Irish  and  French-Canadian,  birth.  But  in  the  days  before 
the  introduction  of  machinery  the  shoemaker's  shop,  especially  at 
Lynn,  was  thoroughly  Yankee  in  character.  The  summer  fishermen 
and  winter  cobblers,  if  not  all  descendants  of  early  colonists,  were 
children  of  the  free  school,  debaters  of  the  town  meeting,  craftsmen 
who,  for  the  most  part,  employed  themselves,  and,  if  hired  by  others, 
made  their  own  bargain  with  the  employer.  To  surrender  this  func- 
tion into  the  hands  of  any  trade-society  would  have  seemed  to  them 
something  more  than  a  loss  of  freedom,  a  denial  of  equality.  All 
thi?  has  changed,  and  the  craft  is  now  dominated  by  the  "  Crispin" 
trp  de-society,  the  largest  and  most  powerful  organization  of  the  kind 
in  America. 

About  fifteen  years  ago  Mr.  Sampson,  a  North  Adams  shoe  manu- 
facturer, and  a  shrewd,  courageous  man,  was  greatly  troubled  by  cer- 
tain of  his  Irish  and  French-Canadian  employees,  acting  under  the  or- 
ders of  the  Crispin  Society.    It  was  at  that  time  even  more  difficult 


78 


AN  INDUSTRIAL  BATTLE. 


than  it  is  now  to  equip  a  factory  with  American  help,  but  Mr.  Samp- 
son was  very  anxious  to  engpge  native  operatives,  both  because  of 
their  superior  intelligence  and  independence  of  trade-societies.  The 
Crispins,  however,  strongly  resented  the  employment  of  any  man 
not  a  member  of  their  guild,  boycotting  him  in  the  workshop,  and 
making  life  outside  of  it  so  disagreeable,  socially,  that  he  was  soon 
glad,  for  the  sake  of  peace  and  quiet,  to  leave  North  Adams. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Sampson's  business  was  brisk,  and  the  concern 
hard-pressed  to  fill  its  orders  ;  but  the  Crispins  would  make  no  effort 
to  meet  the  increasing  demand,  preferring  to  lose  rather  than  make 
time,  and  spending  more  money  than  usual  in  lager-beer  saloons  or 
with  the  "  rumsellers. "  They,  further,  insisted  that  the  full  piece- 
work price  should  be  paid  for  work,  whether  better  or  worse  done 
by  one  workman  than  another,  and  established  a  committee  of  inspec- 
tion to  overlook  all  rejections,  usually  insisting  in  such  cases  on  full 
payment  to  the  operative.  At  length  they  formally  demanded  that 
their  committee  should  have  access  to  the  books  of  the  concern,  for 
the  purpose  of  fixing  rates  of  wages  in  accordance  with  profits. 
Thereupon,  as  might  be  expected,  industrial  war  was  declared.  Mr. 
Sampson  took  a  bold  line.  Discharging  every  hand  in  the  place,  he 
went  at  ouce  to  San  Francisco,  and  returned  with  seventy -five  Cl»ina- 
men,  whom  he  established  in  the  factory.  These  men  were  taught 
how  to  handle  the  machinery  by  non-society  instructors,  who  were 
paid  wages  of  from.  £5  to  £20  a  week,  as  an  inducement  to  risk  the 
vengeance  of  the  old  hands.  Meanwhile  houses  were  built  for  the 
coolies  within  the  walls  of  the  manufactory,  so  that  the  men  need 
not  appear  in  the  streets,  and  every  precaution  was  taken  against  in- 
cendiarism. 

The  experiment,  at  first,  ended  in  total  failure.  Ignorant  of  the 
Chinese  labor  market,  Mr.  Sampson  had  brought  with  him  a  number 
of  worthless  men,  natives  of  Hong  Kong  and  Macao,  the  latter,  in 
many  cases,  Portuguese  half-breeds.  Nothing  daunted,  he  sent  more 
than  half  of  them  back  to  California,  retaining  only  the  Cantonese, 
and  commissioning  the  best  five  of  these  to  go  again  to  San  Francisco 
and  select  him  a  fresh  lot.  Thus  he  got  together  three  hundreu 
hands,  all  good  men,  and  housed  them  on  his  own  premises.  In  the 
course  of  a  very  short  time  the  Chinamen  learned  their  business  per- 
fectly, and  developed  so  much  aptitude  for  the  work  that,  after  a  few 
monihs,  the  white  help  was  not  missed  at  all.  Their  skill  in  the  fac- 
tory was  equalled  by  their  good  behavior  out  of  it.  Patient,  pains- 
taking, and  industrious  in  the  mill,  they  were  quiet,  sober,  and  peace- 
able in  their  homes.  For  a  long  time  it  was  dangerous  for  them  to 
go  into  the  streets,  the  more  violent  Crispins  threatening  Mr.  Samp- 
son's own  life,  while  they  made  several  attempts  to  burn  down  the 
manufactory.    These,  however,  were  all  frustrated  by  sleepless  vigi- 


AM  IMDUSTRUL  BATTLK. 


79. 


lance,  and  after  a  while  the  society  men,  recognizing  their  complete 
defeat,  began  to  seek  employment  elsewhere.  Within  six  months  of 
their  arrival  the  Chinese  could  move  about  the  town  without  fear  of 
molestation  in  the  daytime,  although  they  prudently  continued  to 
sleep  within  the  factory  walls.  Thus  matters  went  on  for  upwards 
of  ten  years,  during  the  whole  of  which  time  Mr.  Sampson's  mill 
was  run  by  means  of  Chinese  labor  alone,  while  other  shoe-shops, 
wiihout  following  his  example,  were  freed  from  the  domination  of 
the  Crispin  Society  by  his  act. 

At  the  end  of  this  time,  however,  Mr.  Sampson  let  his  Chinese 
workmen  go.  The  traders  of  North  Adams  never  failed,  from  first 
to  last,  to  complain  that  the  "heathen  Chinee"  had  hardly  any 
wants.  The  rumsellers  were  furious  because  he  drank  nothing 
stronger  than  tea,  while  Mr.  Sampson's  personal  friends,  prejudiced, 
like  the  majority  of  Americans,  against  the  yellow  race,  constantly 
urgfid  his  return  to  the  employment  of  white  labor.  His  position, 
indeed,  became  at  length  something  like  that  of  a  non-society  man 
in  a  shop  full  of  Crispins.  If  not  actually  boycotted  by  his  acquaint- 
ances, they  made  him,  socially,  so  uncomfortable  that  he  finally  gave 
up  his  Chinamen  for  the  sake  of  a  peaceful  life.  They  left  North 
Adams  with  much  regret,  felt  and  expressed  on  both  sides,  at  parting, 
and  are  now  replaced  in  the  factory,  where  they  lived  and  worked 
so  long,  chiefly  by  American  operatives,  few  of  whom,  however,  are 
members  of  the  Crispin  organization. 

Thus  this  curious  and  interesting  industrial  battle  ended  in  a 
Pyrrhic  victory  for  the  trade-unionist ;  for,  if  I  may  judge  from  the 
manner  in  which  Mr.  Sampson  told  me  the  story,  whenever  compe- 
tition without,  or  domination  within,  the  factory,  pushes  that  gentle- 
man again  into  a  corner,  he  will  brave  the  rage  of  rumsellers,  the 
complaints  of  storekeepers,  and  even  the  coolness  of  his  friends,  and 
send  for  his  Chinamen  back  again. 

The  persecution  of  the  yellow  race  is  one  of  the  most  disappoint- 
ing facts  which  the  traveller  encounters  in  the  United  States,  whose 
citizens  will  quote  the  Declaration  of  Independence  in  support  of  the 
equal  rights  of  all  men,  irrespective  of  race  or  color,  while  denying 
those  rights  to  the  Chinese.  But,  abstract  principles  apart,  America 
has  formally  agreed,  in  a  series  of  treaties,  to  extend  the  same  privi- 
leges and  protection  to  the  Chinese  residents  in  the  country  as  the 
Americans  themselves  enjoy  in  China.  Yet,  in  spite  of  this,  law  as 
well  as  justice  is  constantly  set  at  naught  when  it  is  a  question  of 
Mongol  interests. 

Prejudice  itself  cannot  deny  that  the  Chinese  in  America,  whether 
merchants  or  coolies,  are  distinguished  by  qualities  which  the  white 
races  respect,  while,  class  for  class,  they  are  their  equals  in  morality 
and  order.    The  Chinese  operative  whom,  especially,  state  legisla- 


80 


AN  INDUSTBIAL  BATTLE. 


tion,  not  less  than  popular  violence,  outrages,  really  approaches  very 
nearly  to  our  ideal  of  a  working-man.  He  is  abstemious  as  to  food, 
a  total  abstainer  from  drink,  docile,  industrious,  and  painstaking  in 
his  work,  patient,  respectful,  and  quiet  in  behavior.  He  keeps  no 
"  Saint  Monday,"  and  loses  no  time  during  the  week  ;  requires  scarce- 
ly any  supervision,  and,  if  a  pipe  of  opium  is  his  Saturday  night's 
luxury,  he  is  none  the  worse  for  it  when  he  leaves  the  so-called 
"opium  den" — a  far  more  respectable  place,  as  my  own  eyes  have 
testified,  than  many  a  saloon  where  the  whiskey-drinker  maddens 
himself. 

Paganism,  filth,  the  depletion  of  American  wealth  and  the  danger 
of  their  numerical  supremacy  are  the  charges  urged,  unproved, 
against  the  Chinese  immigrants  ;  but  the  coolie's  real  and  unpardon- 
able ofifence  is  that  he  works  for  four  shillings,  while  his  white  equiv- 
alent demands  a  wage  of  five  shillings  a  day.  There  is  no  room  for 
surprise  if,  under  these  circumstances,  Irish  and  European,  which 
ra^er  than  native  American  labor  is  concerned  in  this  matter,  should 
bitterly  resent  the  Mongol  competition  ;  but  that  which  fills  every 
fair-minded  man  with  astonishment  is  the  attitude  of  both  federal 
and  state  governments  towards  a  people  whose  rights  America  has 
covenanted  to  uphold,  an4  whose  persons  she  is  bound  to  protect. 

In  spite  of  the  treaties  whose  provisions  have  been  already  alluded 
to,  innumerable  acts  of  violence  have  been  done  to  unoffending 
Chinamen  in  California  and  elsewhere,  without  a  finger  being  lifted 
by  the  law  in  their  defence.  On  the  contrary,  legislation  has  strength- 
ened rather  than  stayed  outrage,  by  enacting  oppressive  and,  in  some 
cases,  unconstitutional  laws,  solely  for  the  purpose  of  harrying  the 
Chinese.  The  federal  government,  on  the  other  hand,  under  pre- 
tence of  alarm  lest  Mongol  hordes  might  swamp,  or  Mongol  manners 
contaminate,  the  country,  has  twice  forbidden  the  immigration  of  the 
Chinese,  and,  if  a  presidential  veto  once  remedied  this  legislative  tyr- 
anny, the  prohibition  is  in  full  force  to-day.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
there  is  not  a  public  man  in  America  who  fears  that  a  hundred  thou- 
sand poor  and  peaceful  coolies  will  either  dominate  or  degrade  fifty 
millions  of  free  and  intelligent  people,  and,  recognizing  the  hollowness 
of  the  case  against  these  hardly  used  and  helpless  Orientals,  it  causes 
as  much  surprise  as  pain  to  see  the  great  republic  turning  its  back 
upon  the  principles  of  its  own  charter  and  legislating  at  the  bidding 
of  prejudice  and  violence. 

A  charming  stage  ride  of  four  miles,  following  the  Hoosac  river  past 
the  foot  of  Greylock,  brought  me  to  Willlamstown,  which  peaceful 
and  academical  village  lies  buried,  like  ^.dams,  among  mountains, 
here  enclosing  a  lovely  triangular  valley,  where  the  Green  River  joins 
the  Hoosac  in  its  course  to  the  Huusou.  Tlie  town  is  built  on  a 
boldly  undulating  plateau  of  limestone,  which,  ridng  to  a  considera- 


WILLIAUflTOWlT. 


81 


ble  height  from  the  lower  ground,  affords  magnificent  views  of  the 
encircling  hills,  whose  forest-covered  crests  tower  to  heights  of  three 
and  four  thousand  feet.  The  valley  is  wholly  settled  by  farmers  ; 
there  is  not  a  manufactory  and  hardly  a  retail  shop  in  the  village, 
whose  pretty  white  bungalows  rise  from  park-like  and  elm-shaded 
stretches  of  tuii,  while  the  undulating  main  street  is  bordered  at  in- 
tervals by  the  halls,  chapel,  museum,  and  library  of  Williams  Col- 
lege. 

This  institution  owes  its  existence  to  Colonel  Ephraim  Williams,  a 
New  England  gentleman,  who  for  many  years  of  the  last  century 
led  a  seafaring  life,  and,  in  the  course  of  numerous  voyages  to  Eu- 
rope, acquired  considerable  information  and  a  great  respect  for  learn- 
ing. In  the  French-Indian  campaign  of  1744-48,  known  as  King 
George's  war,  Colonel  Williams  greatly  distinguished  himself,  and, 
after  the  peace,  was  appointed  commander  of  a  line  of  forts,  which 
compelled  his  residence  at  Fort  Massachusetts,  standing  on  the  edge 
of  Adams,  and  a  few  miles  from  what  is  now  Williamstown.  It  was 
under  the  protection  of  this  little  stronghold  that  the  first  settlers  oc- 
cupied the  valley  already  mentioned,  which  has  a  splendid  soil,  and 
whence  the  plough  has  now  pushed  its  way  far  up  the  mountain  slopes. 

Witnessing  the  efforts  and  sympathizing  with  the  difficulties  of 
these  hardy  pioneers.  Colonel  Wiiliams,  who  owned  considerable 
land  among  them,  conceived  the  idea  of  doing  something  for  the  ed- 
ucation of  their  sons.  Becoming  colonel  of  a  regiment  which,  in  the 
last  French-Indian  war  of  1755,  was  operating  on  Lake  George,  he, 
with  a  scouting  party  of  twelve  hundred  men,  fell  into  an  ambush 
and  was  killed.  But,  while  halting  at  Albany,  on  his  way  to  this 
very  campaign,  he  made  a  will  providing  for  the  sale  of  his  property 
and  its  application  within  five  years  of  an  established  peace  to  the 
building  of  a  free  school  near  Fort  Massachusetts,  provided  that, 
when  a  township  was  incorporated  there,  it  should  be  called  after 
himself.  This  bequest  resulted  first  in  an  excellent  school,  and,  after- 
wards, in  the  present  college  of  Williamstown,  towards  whose  estab- 
lishment the  Massachusetts  legislature,  a  few  years  later,  granted  a  lot- 
tery— not  an  unusual  thing  in  those  days. 

The  college  buildings  are,  for  the  most  part,  plain  and  without  any 
academic  air,  but,  spite  of  a  chapel  like  the  conventicle  of  an  Eng- 
lish country  town,  a  very  unpretentious  library,  and  a  number  of 
barrack-like  "  halls,"  where  the  men  live,  its  romantic  situation,  park- 
enfolded  homes,  and  peaceful  atmosphere  place  Williamstown  easily 
ahead  of  every  other  New  England  village  for  beauty. 

Sunday  morning  found  me  at  the  college  chapel,  where  some  two 
hundred,  out  of  two  hundred  and  fifty,  students  were  assembled. 
The  service  was  congregational  in  form,  and,  in  some  respects,  a  lit- 
tle disappointing.    The  extempore  prayers  were  too  spiritual  in  their 

4*  T         -         \ 


WILLIAM8T0WN. 


character,  treating  this  life  as  a  mere  preparation  for  another,  and  dis- 
missing  the  question  of  conduct  in  favor  of  vague  speculations  on 
the  divine  influence.  The  singing,  by  a  choir  of  students,  was  crude 
and  inharmonious,  and  fond  English  prejudice  regretted  the  absence 
of  academical  costume  among  the  students  and  clerical  vestments 
upon  the  preacher's  rostrum.  There  was,  indeed,  nothing ' '  churchy  " 
about  the  whole  thing.  The  men  lounged  in  their  scats  and  read 
their  papers  while  waiting  for  the  service  to  begin,  or  chatted  to- 
gether as  people  do  before  a  lecture. 

But  the  sermon,  and  the  intelligent  attention  it  aroused,  made  am- 
ple amends  for  all  this.  A  more  direct  and  powerful  attack  on  the 
sins  of  youth,  more  prescient  picturing  of  their  consequences,  more 
loving  dissuasion  from  the  weakness  which  fathers  them,  more  virile 
incitement  to  the  strength  which  resists  the  dcTil,  I  have  never  heard 
from  any  pulpit.  The  preacher  did  not  mince  matters  one  whit. 
He  called  both  peccadilloes  and  greater  sins  by  their  names,  and  if 
the  simplicity  of  his  homely  warnings  against  the  "first  glass  of 
wine"  and  the  "first  cigarette"  raised  an  audible  ripple  of  laughter 
among  his  audience,  the  solemnity  with  which  he  specified  and  de- 
nounced worse  evils  made  many  thoughtful  young  faces  look  stem, 
and  even  the  thoughtless  grave.  The  whole  sermon  offered  a  strik. 
ing  example  of  that  pulpit  influence  to  which  New-Englanders  at- 
tach so  much  importance  as  an  element  in  the  conduct  of  life. 

Undergraduate  life  at  Williamstown  differs  materially  from  that 
of  Oxford  of  Cambridge.  The  so-called  college  is,  properly  speak- 
ing, a  university,  or  place  of  learning,  for  there  is,  as  usual  in  Amer- 
ica, no  college  system.  The  ' '  halls  "  in  which  the  students  * '  room  " 
are  merely  dormitories,  where  the  men  sleep  and  read,  but  do  not  eat 
or  drink.  They  board  either  in  private  families  or  at  the  neighbor- 
ing hotel,  where  they  also  entertain,  instead  of  in  the  college  rooms 
or  the  college  dining-hall,  as  with  us.  Of  college  contests  and  esprit 
de  corps  there  arc  none  ;  but  their  places  arc  taken  by  the  bonds  and  • 
rivalries  of  certain  ' '  secret  societies."  These  are  nothing  more  than 
students'  clubs,  which  affect  a  little  mystery  in  their  organization, 
and  are  distinguished  by  cryptogramic  titles,  whose  meaning  is  only 
known  to  the  members.  Thus  the  letters,  A,  ^,  *,  carved  on  the 
fapade  of  the  meeting-room  of  one  of  the  largest  societies,  may  pos- 
sibly signify  <ui  Suvo'c  <jtayuv  (always  terrible  eaters),  allhough  noth- 
ing beyond  examples,  it  is  said,  supports  this  view  of  the  case.  Some 
of  these  clubs  are  wealthy  institutions;  old  members,  who  have  suc- 
ceeded in  life,  delighting  to  bring  liberal  offeiings  to  the  lares  and 
peuates  of  their  college  days,  so  that  many  of  ihcm  are  now  housed 
in  spacious  and  handsome  temples. 

The  Sabbath  evening  was  still  and  peaceful,  and  I  sat  on  the  ve- 
randa of  the  I'otel,  looking,  by  turns,  up  to  the  wooded  summits  of 


TTILLIAMBTOWK. 


88 


Clarksburg,  Beacon  Hill,  and  Greylock,  already  tinged  with  sunset 
pink,  around  upon  the  white,  lawn-bordered  homes  of  farmers  and 
professors,  or  down  the  dusky  Hoosac  valley,  where  a  silver  thread 
of  water  wound  about,  and  was  finally  lost  sight  of  in  the  folds  of 
Taconic's  forest  robe.  In  the  porch  of  the  "  terrible  eaters' "  lodge, 
just  opposite,  a  group  of  students,  picturesquely  disposed,  was  sing- 
ing the  evening  hymn  in  harmony,  while  above  the  great,  gray  hilla 
a  rising  moon  hung  her  silver  shield  over  against  the  sunset's  crim- 
son. Thus  the  May  night  fell,  lightly  as  sleep,  upon  a  scene  of  singu- 
lar beauty  and  purity,  closing  a  day  made  delightful  to  me  by  rest 
from  labor  and  ia!K)r-questions,  by  some  pleasant  glimpses  of  Amer- 
ican youth,  and  by  the  bright  anticipations  for  its  manhood  to  which 
those  glimpses  gave  rise. 


m\\w 


Chapter  X. 

THE  HOOSAC  TUNNEL. —DEEBPIELD. —HOLTOKB. 

The  city  of  Boston,  lying  upon  the  eastern  edge  of  the  Atlantic 
slope,  is  separated  from  all  the  states  westward  of  Massachusetts  by 
the  successive  ridges  of  the  Alleghany  chain.  Thfs,  in  colonial  days, 
was  a  matter  of  very  little  consequence,  for  at  that  time  settled 
America  consisted  of  only  a  narrow  strip  of  land  bordering  the  At- 
lantic; but,  with  the  growth  of  the  country  and  of  commerce,  Boston 
found  itself  placed  at  increasing  disadvantage  from  its  want  of  east 
and  west  communication. 

New  York,  on  the  other  hand,  situated  upon  the  Hudson  River, 
enjoys  a  scarcely  interrupted  waterway  from  the  ocean  to  the  Can- 
ada line,  and  a  n&t  less  easy  road  to  the  west.  The  Hudson  is  a  tidal 
estuary  as  far  as  Albany,  and  the  railroads  on  its  banks  are  level 
throughout  that  distance.  Westward  of  Albany  the  highest  station 
on  the  New  York  Central  Railway  is  not  quite  nine  hundred  feet 
above  sea-level,  and  there  are  no  heavy  grades  all  the  way  to  the 
great  lakes.  This  results  from  the  fact  that,  while  the  trend  of  the 
AUeghanies  is  north  and  south,  the  outcrops  of  its  geological  forma- 
tions in  New  York  State  run  east  and  west,  and  the  softer  of  these, 
having  weathered  into  low  valleys,  form  easy  routes  whether  for  the 
railway  or  canal  which  connects  New  York  with  Lake  Erie. 

About  seventy  years  ago  the  Massachusetts  people  conceived  the 
idea  of  constructing  a  canal  from  the  Hudson  over  the  Berkshire 
Hills  to  Boston,  in  the  hope  of  diverting  some  of  the  ever-increasing 
western  traffic  from  New  York.  This  was  to  carry  a  waterway  over 
both  the  important  ranges  with  which  we  are  now  familiar,  besides 
climbing  many  minor  hills  resting  against  their  flanks.  The  Ta- 
conics,  indeed,  offered  some  convenient  gaps  in  their  ramparts  to  the 
canal-maker,  but  the  Hoosacs  reared  a  barrier  two  thousand  five 
hundred  feet  high  directly  in  his  path,  while  nowhere  in  the  Green 
Mountain  range,  of  which  the  Hoosacs  are  but  a  spur,  from  the 
Sound  to  the  Canada  line,  could  he  find  a  pass  lower  than  fifteen 
hundred  feet  above  tide-water. 

The  Massachusetts  men  were,  however,  very  keen  on  their  canal, 
and  a  state  commission,  appointed  in  1835,  was  courageous  enough 
to  report,  even  in  those  early  days,  in  favor  of  a  scheme  which  in- 


THE  H0O8A0  TUNKEL.— DBERFIBLD. 


85 


eluded  tunnelling  the  Hoosac  Mountain  near  North  Adams,  and  a 
grand  system  of  locks  having  a  total  rise  of  more  than  three  thou- 
sand feet.  Bold  as  it  was,  the  plan  would  have  been  attempted  but 
for  the  timely  introduction  of  steam  as  a  locomotive  agent.  This, 
while  it  cured  Massachusetts  of  tunnel  fever,  set  the  engineers  look- 
ing for  the  easiest  grades  over  the  Green  Mountain  range.  In  the 
result,  the  Boston  and  Albany  Railroad  was  built,  about  1889,  and 
this  excellent,  if  hilly  and  winding  track,  served  the  wants  of  the 
commonwealth  until  1S48,  when  the  desire  for  an  easier  east  and 
west  route  induced  a  second  attack  of  tunnel  fever  in  Massachusetts. 
Six  years  later  the  state  raised  a  loan  of  two  million  dollars  for  the 
prosecution  of  the  work,  a  sum  which  was  more  than  doubled  before 
the  locomotive  first  threaded  the  Green  Mountains,  in  1875. 

A  steep  grade  carried  us  up  from  Adams  to  the  ragged,  schistose 
mouth  of  the  tunnel,  nine  hundred  feet  above  sea-level,  and,  after 
fifteen  minutes  of  darkness,  our  train  issued  into  the  valley  of  the 
Deerfield  at  a  point  whence  the  bed  of  this  stream  offers  an  easy  de- 
scent to  the  Connecticut  River.  This  spot  is  so  obviously  the  best 
in  the  whole  range  for  the  tunnel  to  enter  the  mountain,  that,  when 
the  great  undertaking  was  still  under  debate  in  the  Massaclvi setts 
Legislature,  General  Hoyt,  one  of  the  canal  commissioners  of  1825, 
Won  the  hearty  cheers  of  the  House  by  declaring  that  the  finger  of 
Providence  had  itself  pointed  out  exactly  where  the  Hoosac  Moun- 
tain should  be  pierced.  "  It  would  have  saved  the  state  considera- 
ble money,"  said  a  member,  continuing  the  discussion,  "if  Provi- 
dence had  pushed  his  finger  through." 

The  Deerfield  River  occupies  one  of  the  most  beautiful  mountain 
valleys  in  NeW  England,  its  bright  brown  waters  leaping  rapidly 
down  through  the  earlier  part  of  their  course  between  steep,  rocky 
walls,  which  are  densely  clothed  with  birch  and  maple  forests.  After 
a  few  miles  its  flanks  become  less  precipitous,  but  the  stream  re- 
mains swift,  while  scattered  houses  and  patches  of  cultivation  begin 
to  appear  as  the  valley  widens.  At  Shelburne  Falls  the  river  throws 
itself  headlong  over  a  high  limestone  ledge,  and  here,  for  a  time, 
takes  on  the  peculiar  and  romantic  character  which  frequently  dis- 
tinguishes the  passage  of  mountain  streams  through  crystalline  cal- 
careous rocks.  The  scenery  at  this  point  is  extremely  beautiful. 
The  clear,  rushing  water  is  closely  bordered  by  a  dense  and  varied 
foliage,  just  now  painted  with  the  tenderest  of  spring  tints.  Through 
occasional  gaps  in  this  greenery,  the  traveller,  flying  down  the  steep 
grades,  catches  momentary  glimpses  of  the  Deerfield,  now  pouring 
in  gathered  volume  through  narrow  channels  of  limestone,  then 
spreading  widely  and  smilingly  over  broad,  bowldery  reaches,  bor- 
dered by  fields  and  isolated  farmhouses.  Arrived  at  the  town  of 
Deerfield,  the  valley  opens  widely,  its  now  gentle  slopes  being  thick- 


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33  WIST  MAIN  STRUT 

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86 


'A  HORDE  OF  INDUSTRIAL  INVADERS." 


ly  covered  with  fertile  drift  soils,  where  the  plough  is  busy  as  we 
pass.  Flatter  and  more  extensive  grow  the  rich  river-bottoms,  until 
these  merge  at  length  iuto  the  vast  alluvial  plains  of  the  Connecticut 
River  itself. 

The  position  of  Deerfield  made  it,  oftener  than  any  other  New 
England  village,  a  scene,  in  colonial  times,  of  those  bloody  tragedies 
which  characterized  the  terrible  French- Indian  wars  of  the  last 
century.  This  long  series  of  encounters  which,  beginning  towards 
the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  only  ended  with  the  capture 
of  Quebec  in  1759,  were  far  worse  in  their  effect  upon  the  colonists 
th&n  any  of  the  earlier  and  more  desultory  struggles  in  which 
they  were  engaged  with  the  red  man.  They  were,  in  reality, 
fought  against  the  French,  who  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  the 
help  of  the  native  warriors  in  the  contest  then  in  progress  between 
England  and  France,  for  supremacy  in  the  New  World.  No  open 
battles  took  place  during  this  hundred  years'  war,  the  Indians 
trusting  chiefly  to  surprises  and  night  attacks.  A  lonely  family 
or  the  inhabitants  of  a  remote  village  were  always  liable  to  be 
awakened  from  sleep  by  the  war-whoop,  or,  if  the  redskins  at- 
tacked by  day,  they  waited  until  the  men  were  afield,  and  then  fell 
upon  the  defenceless  women  and  children. 

It  was  in  the  winter  of  1704  that  a  party  of  three  hundred 
French  and  Indians,  under  the  command  of  the  infamous  De  Rou- 
ville,  marching  down  from  Canada  for  the  purpose,  fell  upon  Deer- 
field  one  February  morning,  a  little  before  daybreak.  Colonel 
Schuyler,  of  Albany,  had  warned  the  people,  some  months  before, 
that  an  expedition  was  being  planned  against  them,  and  they  had 
accordingly  built  a  barricade  around  their  houses  and  kept  a  nightly 
watch.  But,  on  the  morning  in  question,  the  sentinel  had  fallen 
asleep  before  dawri^nd  the  unhappy  villagers  were  first  aroused 
by  Indian  yells.  One  party  of  redskins  forced  its  way  into  the 
house  of  the  Rev.  John  Williams,  a  minister,  who,  five  years  before, 
had  made  a  successful  resistance  to  a  similar  but  less  important 
attack.  Him,  his  wife  and  family,  they  seized  and  bound,  killing 
two  of  his  children  before  his  eyes,  and  plundering  his  house  of 
every  valuable.  Meanwhile,  the  larger  body  of  assailants  fired  the 
town,  but  not  before  the  tomahawk  and  seal  ping-knife  had  done 
their  deadly  work  in  almost  every  house. 

Mr.  Williams,  his  wife,  and  five  remaining  children,  together  with 
some  Jiundred  other  captives,  were  then  loaded  with  the  plunder 
and  driven  before  their  enemies  northwards  towards  Canada.  Their 
route  lay  over  the  Qrecn  Mountain  range,  deeply  buried  in  snow, 
and  covered  with  the  primeval  forest,  which,  in  many  places,  was 
scarcely  penetrable  by  man;  and,  day  by  day,  as  one  or  another 
of  the  wretched  party,  heavily  laden  and  almost  naked,  fell  from 


A  HORDB  OF  IITOUSTRIAL  INYADER8/ 


87 


|th 
ler 

pir 


ler 
lm 


hunger  or  exhaustion,  he  was  despatched  by  the  redskins.  Sev- 
enteen persons,  among  whom  was  3Ir.  Williams's  wife,  were  thus 
tomahawked,  and  other  two  died  of  hunger. 

Upon  his  arrival  in  Quebec  Mr.  Williams  was,  however,  humanely 
treated  by  the  French  authorities,  and,  at  the  end  of  two  years,  was 
redeemed  from  captivity.  Returning  again  to  Deerfieid,  the  eleven 
following  years  of  his  life  were  years  of  warfare.  The  village  was 
frequently  alarmed  and  harassed,  although  it  never  again  suffered 
so  comprehensive  a  disaster,  and  the  war,  after  a  time,  drifted 
away  elsewhere.  One  of  Mr.  Williams's  children,  a  daughter, 
seven  years  old  at  the  time  of  the  attack,  never  returned  to  her 
family,  the  Indians  having  adopted  her  as  their  child,  and  no  efforts, 
whether  of  the  government  or  individuals,  could  prevail  on  them 
to  give  her  up.  She  was  afterwards  married  to  a  chief,  and  one  of 
her  grandchildren,  educated  among  whites,  became  a  missionary  to 
the  Oneida  tribe. 

Such  was  one  among  a  thousand  incidents  of  a  similar  character 
attending  the  struggle  which  terminated  in  the  fall  of  Qreater 
France  and  the  rise  of  Greater  Britain  in  America.  Petty  as  its 
bloody  details  seem  in  comparison  with  the  great  eighteenth-cen- 
tury wars  between  France  and  England,  of  which  Europe  was  the 
scene,  beside  the  struggles  of  Clive  and  Dupleix  in  India,  or  of 
Montcalm  and  Wolfe  on  the  plains  of  Quebec,  all  were  alike  results 
of  the  fact  that,  whatever  the  ostensible  cause  of  their  quarrel,  and 
whether  they  crossed  swords  in  Europe,  Asia,  or  America,  Franco 
and  England,  for  the  hundred  years  preceding  the  peace  of  Paris, 
were  really  competing  for  a  prize  of  incalculable  value,  the  posses- 
sion of  the  New  World. 

The  valley  of  the  Connecticut,  or  "long  river"  of  the  Indians, 
which  we  have  now  fairly  entered,  differs  altogether  from  the  rock- 
bound  glens  of  the  Naugatuck  and  Housatonic  rivers.  Its  stream 
has  the  same  north  and  south  course,  but,  instead  of  swiftly  thread- 
ing mountain  glens  excavated  in  primitive  rocks,  it  flows,  except 
where  hurried  by  falls,  in  a  wide,  slow  stream,  over  rocks  of  triassic 
age,  which  rise  upon  either  side  into  an  indefinite  succession  of 
plains  and  undulations. 

The  valley  varies  from  five  to  forty-five  miles  in  width,  having 
the  Lyme  range,  which  merges,  farther  north,  into  the  White  Moun- 
tains, upon  the  cast,  and  a  succession  of  trap-hills,  which,  going 
north,  give  way  to  the  Green  Mountains,  on  the  west.  It  is  char- 
acterized throughout  its  whole  length  of  four  hundred  miles  by  a 
succession  of  expansions,  or  lake-like  basins,  sometimes  fifty  miles 
long  and  half  as  wide,  sometimes  of  much  smaller  dimensions,  all 
of  which  are  united  by  narrow  intervening  glens.  The  flanks  of 
these  expansions  consist  of  terraced  "  intervales,"  or  river  flats,  con- 


88 


'A  HOnDE  OF  IKDUSTIIIAL  IKVADBR8/ 


slating  of  fertile  alluvial  soil.  These  were  laid  down  by  the  river 
itself  during  the  "Champlain  Period  "  of  American  geologists,  con- 
cerning which  more  hereafter,  and  their  regular  outlines  lend  great 
beauty  to  the  scenery,  while  their  elevated  and  level  surfaces  offer 
strikingly  picturesque  sites  for  towns. 

The  course  of  the  river  through  these  soft  alluvial  deposits  is 
characterized  by  bold  and  nearly  uniform  curves.  Its  banks  are 
ornamented  with  a  fringe  of  fine  trees  and  shrubs,  while  the  inter- 
vales themselves  are,  for  the  most  part,  meadows.  Almost  any 
crop,  however,  can  be  grown  in  their  kindly  loams,  and  hence  the 
long  stretches  of  grass  are  frequently  broken  by  fields,  exhibiting 
all  the  varied  productions  of  a  genial  climate  and  prolific  soil. 
Meanwhile,  the  annual  floods  forbid  fences  in  the  lower  bottoms, 
so  that  grass,  corn,  tobacco,  orchard,  and  forest  divide  these  into 
great  parallelograms,  whose  mathematical  outlines  alone  suggest  the 
hand  of  man  in  a  scene  where  Nature  herself  seems  to  have  turned 
farmer. 

The  city  of  Holyoke,  containing  nearly  twenty-two  thousand  in- 
habitants, is,  in  some  respects,  the  most  remarkable  town  in  the 
state  of  Massachusetts.  It  was  brought  into  existence  some  thirty- 
four  years  ago  by  the  construction  of  a  great  dam  across  the  Con- 
necticut River,  probably  the  boldest  enterprise  of  this  kind  ever  un- 
dertaken in  America.  Around  the  water-power  thus  obtained, 
which  aggregates  the  force  of  thirty  thousand  horses,  manufactories 
have  sprung  up  with  marvellous  rapidity,  while  population,  whose 
average  rate  of  increase  in  Massachusetts  generally  is  eighteen  per 
cent,  per  decade,  has  doubled  itself  in  Holyoke  within  the  last  ten 
years. 

The  city  is,  however,  chiefly  remarkable  for  the  extent  of  its 
foreign  population.  About  half  the  people  of  Massachusetts  are 
of  American,  and  half  of  alien  birth,  but  eighty  out  of  every 
hundred  men,  women,  and  children  in  Holyoke  are  of  foreign  ex- 
traction. The  prevailing  nationality  is  French-Canadian,  people  of 
whom  we  have  hitherto  seen  nothing,  but  who,  beginning  to  emi- 
grate about  twelve  years  ago,  are  now  occupying  one  industrial 
centre  after  another  in  New  England,  even  to  the  displacement  of 
the  Irish,  who  are  already  second  in  number  to  the  French  in 
Holyoke. 

Our  route,  up  to  the  present  time,  has,  designedly,  led  us  through 
such  manufacturing  towns  as  are  distinctively  American  in  char- 
acter, using  this  term  in  the  sense  assigned  to  it  before  we  com- 
menced our  journey.  We  have  seen  the  descendants  of  the  early 
colonists,  the  children  of  liberty  and  equality,  suckled  upon  Puritan 
tradition,  weaned  in  the  free  school,  attaining  manhood  in  the  town- 
meeting,  and  experience  in  the  exercise  of  public  duties.     We  have 


■ 


A  HORDE  OF  li^tDUSTBIAL  INVADBB8." 


8Q 


followed  them  into  the  workshop,  where,  standing  upon  an  ad- 
mitted equality  with  their  employers,  the  men  who  have  not  yet 
saved  money  make  an  unfettered  bargain  for  their  services  with 
men  who  have;  basing  the  contract,  by  mutual  consent,  upon  a 
comfortable  and  even  refined  ideal  of  operative  life.  We  have 
entered  these  workmen's  homes,  talked  with  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren, eaten,  although  we  have  not  drunk,  with  them,  and  noted 
their  relations  with  their  employers.  We  have  visited  the  employer 
as  well,  and  found  his  factory  no  money -mill,  and  himself  no  ab- 
sentee, but  "head  of  the  concern"  in  the  same  sense  that  the  brain 
dominates  a  harmoniously  working  organization.  Later  on,  we 
glanced  for  a  moment  at  trades-unionism,  attacking  capital  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  old  equality  between  employer  and  employed  on  the 
other,  and  watched  the  origin,  progress,  and  fortunes  of  a  strange 
and  interesting  industrial  battle.  We  have  now  to  follow  a  route 
where  we  shall  find  the  conditions  of  labor  approximating  sensibly 
to  those  of  Europe,  and  the  question  whether  those  conditions  will 
ultimately  dominate  American  industry  or  be  themselves  raised  to 
native  American  standards  is  one  that  will  hang  long,  if  not  alto- 
gether, in  the  balance. 

Meanwhile,  let  us  take  a  glance  at  the  great  dam  of  Holyoke  and 
the  cotton,  woollen,  and  paper  mills  which  have  sprung  up  around  it. 
The  Connecticut  River  is  nearly  a  third  of  a  mile  wide  at  Holyoke, 
upon  whose  site,  l)efore  that  city  came  into  existence,  occurred  the 
falls  of  South  Hadley,  rapids  having  a  descent  of  sixty  feet,  over 
which,  until  the  year  1848,  six  thousand  cubic  feet  of  water,  the 
equivalent  of  thirty  thousand  horse -power,  ran  to  waste  every 
second.  In  that  year  a  small  party  of  Boston  adventurers  in- 
corporated themselves  as  the  "Hadley  Falls  Company,"  with  a 
capital  of  $4,000, 000,  "for  the  purpose  of  constructing  and  main- 
taining a  dam  across  the  Connecticut  River,  and  one  or  more  locks 
and  canals,  and  of  creating  water-power  to  be  used  for  manufac- 
turing purposes,"  etc.  Twelve  months  later  this  work  was  com- 
pleted, but  scarcely  were  the  sluice-gates,  which  had  given  passage 
to  the  stream  during  the  construction  of  the  dam,  closed,  than  the 
whole  structure  was  swept  away  by  the  rising  river. 

Nothing  daunted,  the  company,  in  the  following  year,  built  the 
present  dam,  which  is  a  triumph  of  skill  in  the  control  of  a  magnifi- 
cent natural  power.  Its  length  is  one  thousand  and  seventeen  feet, 
or  nearly  one  fifth  of  a  mile,  and  its  appearance  that  of  an  apron  of 
massive  timber-work,  inclined  towards  the  stream  at  a  gentle  slope, 
over  whose  upper  edge  the  river  flows.  This  wooden  apron  protects 
the  dam  proper,  consisting  of  a  ramp  of  masonry,  having  a  base  of  a 
hundred  feet,  and  rising  forty  feet  above  the  bed  of  the  river.  During 
the  construction  of  the  dam  the  stream  was  allowed  to  escape  through 


90 


A  HOBDE  OF  IKDUBTRIAL  INVAOERB. 


some  fifty  sluice-gates,  each  about  twenty  feet  square,  and  these,  when 
the  work  was  completed,  were  closed,  for  the  first  time,  about  noon  of 
October  22, 1849.  Thousands  of  spectators  watched  with  eager  in- 
terest the  river  creeping  slowly  upwards  to  the  lip  of  the  new  work, 
and  gathering  into  a  broad  lake  behind  it,  until  the  water,  finally, 
slid  in  a  thin  sheet  down  the  slopes  of  the  timber  apron,  when  the 
cheers  of  the  crowd  went  up  exultingly.  The  dam  has,  since  then, 
supported  the  weight  of  the  greatest  freshet  ever  known  on  the 
Connecticut  River,  while  the  evenness  of  the  thin  fluid  film  flowing 
over  its  crest  is  good  evidence  that  no  settlement  has  occurred  or  is 
in  progress. 

But  the  company's  work  did  not  terminate  with  the  building  of 
the  great  dam.  The  fall  acquired  was  sufficiently  high  to  permit  of 
its  being  divided,  so  to  speak,  into  three  stories.  Three  grand 
canals,  each  occupying  a  different  level,  were  accordingly  dug,  and, 
of  these,  two  send  broad,  parallel  watercourses  a  distance  of  two  and 
a  half,  and  one  and  a  half  miles  respectively,  through  the  very 
centre  of  the  city,  while  the  third  skirts  the  Connecticut  River.  The 
mills  on  the  upper  level  have  a  head  of  twenty  feet,  and  their  waste 
water  passes  into  the  second  canal.  Those  upon  this  channel,  and 
others  upon  the  third,  have  a  head  of  twelve  feet,  the  mill-tails  dis- 
charging into  number  three  level  in  one  case,  and  into  the  river  in 
the  other.  From  any  of  the  numerous  bridges  which  carry  the 
city  streets  across  these  handsome  canals  the  eye  takes  in  a  long 
stretch  of  water-way,  and  if  a  rosy  sunset  dyes,  or  the  full  moon 
whitens,  the  clear  stream,  only  the  great,  but  by  no  means  ugly, 
buildings  on  its  banks  notify  the  manufacturing  town  to  the 
spectator.  The  air  is  pure,  the  sky  is  azure;  there,  to  the  left,  is  the 
grand  Connecticut  River,  a  wide,  silver  lake  above,  a  mad  rapid  be- 
low, the  great  dam.  Under  his  feet  slips  a  shining  thread  of  water, 
which,  reflecting  the  waning  sun  or  waxing  moon,  is  none  the  less 
beautiful,  pace  Mr.  Ruskin,  because  human  genius,  unravelling  it 
from  the  greater  strand  twisted  by  Nature  herself  from  rain-drops 
fallen  on  the  flanks  of  the  "  long  river,"  has  therewith  made  a  stitch 
or  two  in  the  harness  which  links  the  intellect  and  energy  of  man  to 
the  car  of  material  progress. 

Like  other  salable  commodities,  water-power  has  its  own  unit  of 
measurement,  called  a  "  mill-power, "  equal  to  thirty-eight  cubic  feet 
of  water  drawn  in  every  second  from  a  head  of  twenty  feet,  and  the 
equivalent  of  sixty-five  horse-powers.  When  a  site  for  a  factory 
has  been  taken  from  the  company,  who,  it  is  understood,  own  all 
the  lands  adjacent  to  their  water  privileges,  the  requisite  number  of 
mill-powers  is  conveyed  to  the  occupant  by  an  indenture  of  per- 
petual lease.  The  annual  rental  is  three  hundred  dollars  per  mill- 
power,  or  something  under  twenty  shillings  per  horse-power  per 


"A  HORDB  or  INDUBTIUAL  INTASBBa' 


91 


icn 

in- 
)rk, 
illy, 

tUe 
hen, 
L  tlie 
wing 
oris 

Dgof 
nit  of 
grand 
;,  and, 
vuand 
e  very 
r.  The 
r  waste 
lel,  and 
lUs  dis- 
river  in 
irry  the 

I  a  long 

II  moon 

as  ugly. 
i  to  the 
if t,  is  the 
rapid  be- 
[)f  -water, 
3  the  less 
yelling  it 
tiin-drops 
le  a  stitch 
of  man  to 

ivn  unit  of 
cubic  feet 
Bt,  and  the 
a  factory 
od,  own  all 
number  of 
ire  of  per- 
rs  per  miH* 
-power  per 


annum,  being  less  than  a  fourth  the  cost  of  the  most  economical 
form  of  steam-power. 

Cheapness  of  motive  energy  is  the  corner-stone  of  all  the  fac- 
tories in  Holyoke.  These  consist  chiefly  of  cotton,  woollen,  and 
paper  mills,  which,  built  in  recent  years,  and  for  the  purpose  of 
using  a  predetermined  amount  of  power,  are  little  like  the  collections 
of  unrelated  and  ramshackle  buildings  too  often  typical  of  a  manu- 
facturing district.  Externally,  there  is  some  architectural  dignity 
about  all  the  Holyoke  mills,  and  this  is  enhanced  by  their  situation 
on  the  banks  of  wide  and  well-built  canals.  Internally,  they  are 
fitted  with  those  appliances  for  safety,  convenience,  and  even  com- 
fort which  form  a  marked  feature  of  the  New  England  factory.  I 
do  not,  however,  propose  to  enter  any  one  of  these  hives,  for  most 
people  are  familiar  with  textile  processes;  and,  coming  in  contact 
here,  for  the  first  time,  with  French  faces  and  the  French  tongue  in 
the  streets  of  an  American  city,  curiosity  is  excited  less  by  the  mills 
than  by  the  mill-hands. 

"  Achetez  vos  hardcs,  faites  Si  la  maison  populaire  de  Montague  ct 
Adams,  185,  Rue  High;  nous  parlous  tous  franfais."  Such  was  the 
first  of  many  similar  philological  gems  which  I  found  conspictiously 
posted  on  the  blank  walls  and  gables  of  Franco- American  Holyoke. 
That  Americans  as  well  as  Frenchmen  are  addressed  by  this  adver- 
tisement I  gathered  from  its  subjoined  translation.  "  Clothing,  hats, 
and  fixings  at  Montague  &  Adams,  185  High  Street."  The  presum- 
ably Norman  Montague  and  undoubtedly  Yankee  Adams  have  suc- 
ceeded, the  one  with  Latin  ornament,  the  other  with  Saxon  simplicity, 
in  symbolizing  the  city  of  their  adoption  by  a  singk-  poste..  Hol- 
yoke is  evidently  a  town  of  Freni^hmen  first  and  Americans  after- 
wards, and  both  are  of  the  class  that  wears  ready-made  clothes. 

Pleasure,  like  business,  addresses  its  clients  with  two  tongues  in 
this  curious  Franco  -  American  town.  Thus,  "M.  le  Professeur 
Bartholomew"  announces  the  arrival  of  his  "  Chetaux  de  Manege, 
Le  Paraadox  Equine,  visite  pendant  plus  que  trois  mois  &  Boston  par 
121,209  de  son  peuple  le  plus  cultive.  Patronise  partout,  par  cette 
classe  des  personnes  trouve  au  theatre  sur  dcs  occasions  speciaux 
seulement."  And,  afterwards,  as  follows:  "  Profemtr  Bartholomew' » 
Educated  Horsen,  The  Equine  Paraadox,  \m\  visited  during  a  three 
months'  stay  in  Boston  by  121,209  of  its  most  cultivated  people. 
Patronized  everywhere  by  a  class  of  people  found  at  the  theatre 
only  on  very  special  occasions."  Aside  from  its  delicious  incon- 
gruity, which  never  startles  in  America,  the  home  of  incongruity, 
how  oddly  it  reads,  this  appeal  of  the  Yankee  showman,  the  com- 
panion, though  not  the  child  of  puritanical  ideas,  from  the  evils  of 
the  stage,  addressed  to  Frenchmen! 

The  Canadian  French  were  recently  described,  in  a  grave  state 


M 


'A  HORDB  OF  IKDUSTItlAL  I5VADBR8." 


paper,*as  "  the  Chinese  of  the  Eastern  States."  They  care  nothing 
for  our  institutions,  civil,  political,  or  educational.  They  do  not 
come  to  make  a  home  among  us,  to  dwell  with  us  as  citizens  and  so 
become  a  part  of  us;  but  their  purpose  is  merely  to  sojourn  a  few 
years  as  aliens,  touching  us  only  at  a  single  point,  that  of  work,  and 
when  they  have  gathered  out  of  us  what  will  satisfy  their  end,  to 
get  them  away  to  whence  they  came  and  bestow  it  there.  They  are 
a  horde  of  industrial  invaders,  not  a  stream  of  stable  settlers.  Vot- 
ing, with  all  that  it  implies,  they  care  nothing  about.  Rarely  does 
one  of  them  become  naturalized.  They  will  not  send  their  children 
to  school  if  they  can  help  it,  but  endeavor  to  crowd  them  into  tho 
mills  at  the  earliest  possible  age.  When,  at  length,  they  are  cor- 
nered by  the  school-officers  and  there  is  no  escape,  often  they  scrab- 
ble together  what  few  things  they  have  and  move  away  to  some 
place  where,  being  unknown,  they  hope  to  escape  the  schools  en- 
tirely and  keep  the  children  at  work  right  on  in  the  mills.  And 
when,  as  is  indeed  sometimes  the  case,  any  of  them  are  so  situated 
that  they  cannot  escape  at  all,  then  the  stolid  indifference  of  the 
children  wears  out  the  teacher  w  ith  what  seems  an  idle  task. 

"  These  people  have  one  good  trait.  They  are  indefatigable  work- 
ers, and  docile.  All  they  ask  is  to  be  set  to  work,  and  they  care  lit- 
tle who  rules  them,  or  how  they  are  ruled.  To  earn  all  they  can, 
by  no  matter  how  many  horn's  of  toil;  to  live  in  the  most  beggarly 
way,  so  that  out  of  their  earnings  they  may  spend  as  little  as  possi- 
ble; and  to  carry  out  of  the  country  what  they  can  thus  save,  this  is 
the  aim  of  the  Canadian  French  in  our  factory  districts.  Incident- 
ally they  must  have  some  amusements,  and,  so  far  as  the  males  are 
concerned,  drinking,  smoking,  and  lounging  constitute  the  sum  oi 
these." 

These  sweeping  statejnents  had  scarcely  issued  from  the  Labor 
Bureau  before  they  were  met  by  earnest  denials  from  the  Canadian 
French  of  New  England,  who,  at  various  public  meetings,  pp  aei 
resolutions  of  so  vigorous  and  condemnatory  a  character  that  these, 
reaching  the  state  legislature,  were  referred  by  it  to  the  bureau  for 
an  answer.  In  the  result,  a  public  hearing  of  the  French  in  their 
own  cause  was  appointed,  but  we  need  not  follow  this  inquiry  be- 
yond the  point  where  it  enables  us  to  get  a  good  view  of  the  problem 
I  am  anxious  to  elucidate,  and  which  I  will  here  restate.  Are  the 
old  labor  conditions  of  America  beginning  to  approximate  to  those 
of  Europe,  and,  if  so,  what  influences  are  at  work  to  prevent  this 
lapse? 

The  Canadian  "  habitan,"  as  he  is  seen  at  home,  is  a  peasant  pro- 
prietor, farming  a  few  acres,  living  parsimoniously,  marrying  early, 

'Thirteenth  Annaal  Report  of  the  MacBachnietts  Labor  Bareaa,  188& 


"A  nOROE  OF  IKDUSTRIAL  INVADERS." 


9S 


ling 
not 

A  80 

few 
and 
d,to 
fVte 
Vot- 
doea 
ildren 
to  the 
B  cor- 
sctab- 
)  some 
lis  en- 
And 
ituated 
of  the 

e  work- 
care  llt- 
ley  can, 
jeggarly 
Its  possl- 
e,  this  iB 
^ncident- 
aale?  are 
J  Buni  of 

le  Labor 
Canadian 


58.  P» 


ded 


hat  these, 
»ureau  for 
h  in  tbeir 
aquiry  be- 
le  problem 
Are  the 
te  to  those 
revent  thi* 

easant  pro- 
ving early, 

80,1888. 


and  producing  a  large  family,  who,  if  they  would  not  sink  into  pen- 
ury, must  either  subdue  the  distant  and  stubborn  forests  of  the  in> 
clement  North,  or  become  factory  operatives  in  the  States.  They 
are  a  simple,  kindly,  pious,  and  cheerful  folk,  with  few  wants,  less 
energy,  and  n6  ambition;  well-mannered  and  well-conducted,  but 
ignorant  and  credulous;  the  children  of  a  Church  which  teaches 
satisfaction  rather  than  dissatisfaction  with  an  humble  lot,  and  de- 
voted to  the  priest,  who  is  their  oracle,  friend,  and  guide  in  all  the 
relations  of  life.  Such  are  the  people,  a  complete  contrast  in  every 
respect  with  Americans,  who  began,  only  twelve  years  ago,  to  emi- 
grate to  the  industrial  centres  of  New  England,  inking  employment 
in  the  mills.  They  came,  not  only  intending  to  return  to  their  own 
country  after  having  saved  money  enough  to  buy  a  patch  of  cleared 
land,  but  expressly  enjoined  by  the  Church  to  do  so.  Employers  of 
labor,  however,  soon  found  out  the  value  of  the  new-comers,  and 
Yankee  superintendents  preferred  them  as  operatives  befwe  any 
other  nationality,  not  only  on  account  of  their  tireless  industry  and 
docility,  bui  because  they  accepted  low  wages  without  grumbling, 
and  kept  themselves  clear  of  trade  organizations.  Hence  it  was  not 
long  before  the  mill-owners  themselves  began  to  organize  the  Cana- 
dian immigration,  appointing  agents  to  procure  French  labor,  and 
importing,  sometimes,  as  many  as  fifty  families  at  once  into  a  town. 

Thus  it  has  come  about  that  nearly  seventy  per  cent,  of  the  cot- 
ton operatives  of  Holyoke  are  of  French-Canadian  origin,  a  fact 
which  obtrudes  itself  on  the  notice  of  visitors  in  a  variety  of  ways. 
The  streets  are,  every  evening,  crowded  with  French  faces,  and  re- 
sound with  the  French  tongue.  ' '  Ici  on  parle  Franfais  "  appears  in 
most  of  the  shop  windows.  Oroups  of  male  loungers  laugh  and 
smoke  at  every  street  corner.  The  billiard  and  beer  saloons  are 
full  of  noisy  players  and  drinkers.  Girls,  less  trim  and  less  demure 
than  those  we  have  hitherto  seen,  but  smarter  far  than  any  Lanca- 
shire mill-hands,  trip,  by  twos  and  threes,  from  shop  to  shop,  or  greet 
passing  friends  with  gay  French  phrases.  The  general  behavior  is, 
however,  most  decorous,  even  a  social  observer's  eye  failing  to  de- 
tect any  signs  of  immorality.  By  ten  o'clock,  indeed,  the  busy  street 
life  is  hushed,  and,  half  an  hour  after,  Holyoke  is  as  quiet  as  a  coun- 
try village. 

Passing  from  the  main  thoroughfares  of  the  city  into  the  streets 
where  labor  resides,  we  at  once  became  conscious  of  a  great  contrast 
with  similar  quarters  in  the  industrial  towns  of  western  Massachu- 
setts and  Connecticut.  The  Water-Power  Company  owns  not  only 
all  the  ground  available  for  mills,  but  much  besides.  Hence,  land  is 
dear,  and  tenement-houses  the  rule.  These  consist  of  great  blocks, 
five  stories  high,  constructed  in  "  flats,*'  and  inhabited  by  many  fam- 
ilies.   They  are  built  by  the  mill-owners,  who  charge  twenty-five 


M 


'A  HORDE  OP  INDUSTBIAL  mVAOERS.' 


shillings  a  montli  for  eacli  suite  of  rooms,  a  rent  wliicli  yields  only 
a  moderate  interest  upon  an  outlay  undertaken  for  the  sake  of  con* 
veniencing  labor. 

Fresh  from  the  Tehito  cottage-homes  and  green  gardens  of  the 
Dalton  operatives,  and  still  almost  in  view  of  the  charming  school* 
children  of  Great  Barrington,  what  was  our  surprise  and  disappoint- 
ment at  the  first  view  of  a  French-Canadian  quarter!  A  narrow, 
unclean  street,  gloomy  by  reason  of  the  great  brick  barracks  on  its 
either  side,  was  resonant  with  the  shrill  voices  of  children  playing, 
so  to  speak,  in  the  gutters.  Almost  every  boy  and  girl  was  bare- 
legged and  bare-footed,  rags  were  by  no  means  scarce,  while  the  dirt 
of  hands,  feet,  and  faces  was  such  as  bespeaks  no  daily  wash.  The 
open  windows  of  every  flat  offered  glimpses  of  bare  and  grimy  in- 
teriors, overcrowded  with  slovenly  people,  either  "  pigging  together  " 
at  supper,  or  leaning,  untidy  and  idle,  over  the  window-sills.  Turn- 
ing from  a  scene  whose  outward  appearance  spoke,  if  not  of  the 
worst,  yet  of  very  low  conditions  of  life,  wc  sought  another  street, 
only  to  meet  with  the  same  experience,  while  the  question,  "What 
does  all  this  portend  for  the  future  of  labor  in  America?"  sprang 
into  instant  and  peremptory  existence  in  our  minds. 

The  average  number  of  persons  living  in  each  house  in  the  state 
of  Massachusetts  is  rather  more  than  six,  but  the  number  of  inmates 
sheltered  under  one  roof  in  such  typical  American  towns  as  Dalton 
and  Qreat  Barrington  is  only  five  and  a  half.  The  average  size  of 
the  family,  again,  in  each  of  these  towns,  as  in  New  England  gener- 
ally, is  four  and  three  quarter  persons,  so  that  almost  every  family 
in  Dalton  and  Qreat  Barrington  lives  under  its  own  roof -tree.  In 
Holyoke,  on  the  other  hand,  the  average  number  of  inhabitants  per 
house  is  eleven ;  in  other  words,  there  is  only  one  dwelling  for  every 
two  families  in  this  city.  Now,  bearing  in  mind  that  the  French, 
although  the  dominating  nationality,  form  less  than  a  fourth,  of  the 
total  population  of  Holyoke,  we  realize  how  these  people  herd  in 
learning  that  their  presence,  to  the  number  of  five  thousand,  among 
twenty-two  thousand  men,  women,  and  children,  has  doubled  the 
average  rate  of  inhabitancy  of  the  whole  town. 

Overcrowding  is  not  the  only  evil  which  threatens  the  condition 
of  American  labor  in  Holyoke.  Illiteracy  characterizes  the  French 
operatives  almost  equally  with  herding,  and  is  more  difficult  to  deal 
with  in  their  case  than  in  that  of  many  other  immigrant  races. 
Aside  from  the  barrier  which  a  strange  tongue  places  between 
French  children  and  American  schools,  the  Canadian  is  a  good  Cath- 
olic, and  very  loyal  to  his  Church.  The  priest,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  not  less  anxious  for  the  religious  teaching  of  the  youth  than  for 
the  growth  and  prosperity  of  the  expatriated  flock  under  his  charge. 
Hence,  instead  of  making  use  of  the  common  school,  that  root  of 


'A  HORDE  OF  INDC8TIUAL  IMVADEB9. 


95 


•nly 
;on- 

the 

lOOl- 

oint- 
row, 
n  its 

bare- 
edirt 
The 
oyin- 
ither" 
Tum- 
of  the 
street, 
•What 
sprang 

le  state 
inmates 
Dalton 
size  of 
1  gener- 
'  family 
ree.    In 
ints  per 
or  every 
French, 
h  of  the 

herd  in 
1,  among 

bled  the 

jondition 
e  French 
It  to  deal 
at  races. 

between 
ood  Cath- 

ler  hand, 

than  for 
[is  charge. 

tt  root  of 


good  citizenship,  equally  with  intelligence,  these  two  bend  all  their 
energies  to  the  establishment  of  "parochial  schools,"  ^hich, how« 
ever  they  may  benefit  the  cause  of  the  Church,  will  certainly  do  lit- 
tle for  education,  in  the  American  sense  of  the  word. 

1  purpose,  as  I  have  already  said,  no  critical  examination  of  the 
Canadian  question,  or  any  attempt  to  estimate  the  value  of  the 
French  reply  to  the  indictment  against  them  which  I  have  already 
quoted.  It  is  sufficient  for  my  purpose  to  show  that  operative  life 
in  Holyoke  is  a  very  different  thing  from  what  it  is  in  western 
Massachusetts,  and  a  sad  lapse  from  American  ideals.  That  em- 
ployers should  desire  to  obtain  help  which  is  at  once  satisfactory 
and  cheap  is  much  the  same  thing  as  their  being  anxious  to  buy 
good  cotton  at  low  rates,  and  might  pass  without  rcmarlc  in  any 
country  except  America.  But  American  equality  has  only  one 
ideal  of  life,  and  to  be  an  intelligent  and  a  good  citizen  is  as  neces- 
sary for  the  poor  as  for  the  rich  man  in  a  state  where,  by  the  theory 
of  the  Constitution,  each  individual  is  a  factor  in  the  sovereignty  of 
the  people.  Hence  it  is  with  a  feeling  of  alarm  that  the  European 
observer  sees  the  dignity  of  labor  down  in  the  very  dust  at  Holyoke, 
and  asks, "  Does  no  one  concern  himself  about  a  state  of  things  that 
would  have  shocked  all  America  thirty  years  ago,  and  been  quite 
impossible  half  a  century  back?" 

More  than  one  cheering  answer  is,  however,  at  hand.  The  very 
report  from  which  I  have  quoted,  hardly  as  it  deals  with  French- 
Canadian  character,  is  no  denunciation  of  these  people,  no  cry,  such 
as  that  raised  against  the  Chinese,  for  disability  or  dismissal.  On 
the  contrary,  it  is  an  appeal  and  a  warning  to  the  American  people. 
This  new  flood  of  alien  immigrants,  having  many  excellent  qualities, 
but  without  ideals,  ambitions,  or  any  due  sense  of  the  dignity  of  la- 
bor, is  sweeping,  not  into  the  great  West,  where  conflict  with  nature 
regenerates  character,  but  into  high-souled  and  intelligent  New  Eng- 
land, the  home  of  pure  and  enlightened  democracy,  the  very  heart 
of  America.  There  the  new-comers  are  congregating  in  the  same 
mills  whose  operatives,  New  England's  own  children,  were,  forty 
years  ago,  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  Europe.  Herding  in 
crowded  tenement-houses,  slovenly,  ragged,  and  dirty,  the  French 
operatives  of  Holyoke  seem  to  eat,  drink,  and  breed,  without  a 
thought  of  any  higher  life,  savie,  perhaps,  that  of  which  the  priest 
tells  them  on  the  Sabbath.  It  is  nothing  less  than  a  social  revolution 
which  has  occurred  in  the  American  dominions  of  King  Cotton 
since  Harriet  Martineau  and  Charles  Dickens  told  the  world  what 
the  inner  life  of  the  Lowell  factories  was  like. 

But  the  state  cries  aloud,  by  the  very  report  in  question,  to  the 
consciences  of  the  American  people,  reminding  them  of  their  princi- 
ples, and  calling  for  the  aid  of  all  patriotic  souls  in  turning  this  mud- 


96 


A  HORDE  OF  INDUOTRIAL  IKVADEB0. 


dy.but  manageable  stream  of  toil  into  the  channels  of  education, 
nationalization,  and  public  duty.  Xor  is  the  school  less  active  in 
the  same  cause.  The  meny  street  crowds  were  at  their  thickest  one 
evening  in  Holyoke,  when,  attracted  by  the  sounds  of  singing,  I  en* 
tered  the  handsome  city-hall,  where  the  common-school  children  of 
the  town  were  holding  their  annual  musical  festival.  An  immense 
orchestra,  filled  with  nearly  four  hundred  boys  and  girls,  occupied 
one  end  of  the  room,  which  was  crowded  with  an  audience  of  a 
thousand  people,  respectable,  well-dressed,  and  well-behaved  mill- 
hands,  the  parents  and  relatives  of  the  little  performers  on  the  stage. 
Although  admission  was  ir^e,  there  was  not  a  shabby  or  noisy  per- 
son present,  and  the  gathering  hud  that  remarkable  air  of  indepen- 
dence which  always  strikes  an  Englishman  as  a  most  characteris- 
tic feature  of  an  American  crowd.  Scattered  among  the  choir,  the 
acute  but  genial  faces  of  many  a  school-master  and  "  school-marm  " 
shone  upon  the  children.  Grave,  and  gray-headed,  but  kindly  look- 
ing-men  and  women,  some  of  these,  whose  very  gravity  bespoke 
their  s^nso  of  serving  an  important  cause.  And  there  were  young- 
er teachers,  too,  bright,  trim  girls,  who  kept  order,  where  order 
seemed  to  keep  itself,  by  the  magic  which  is  a  secret  of  the  Ameri- 
can common  school. 

I  don't  know  who  more  enjoyed  the  songs  and  choruses,  the  sing- 
ers or  their  audience;  but  I  do  know  that,  for  me,  haunted  by  after- 
images of  the  squalor  I  had  just  witnessed,  it  was  beyond  measure 
inspiriting  to  see  the  quick  uprise  of  the  well-dressed  and  well- 
drilled  rows  of  children,  to  hear  their  trained  voices  pealing  joyoiis- 
ly  forth,  and  to  watch  the  well-pleased  faces  of  their  listening  fa- 
thers nnd  mothers.  I  went  out,  when  it  was  all  over,  into  the  pure, 
moonlit  air  of  a  perfect  May  night,  and  watched  the  crowd  of  happy 
parents  and  happier  children,  parting,  group  from  group,  with  laugh- 
ter and  kindly  farewells.  They,  I  felt  sure,  would  not  scatter  to 
homes  such  as  those  I  have  described,  but  to  roofs  which  worthily, 
if  modestly,  shelter  so  many  of  the  sons  of  toil  in  this,  the  chosen 
country  of  labor. 

To  "make  Americans"  of  the  alien  races  which  pour  in  such 
numbers  upon  her  shores  is  the  acknowledged  task  of  the  pulpit,  the 
common  school,  and  the  democratic  institutions  of  the  States.  Nei- 
ther of  these  have  any  disposition -to  shirk  work  which,  properly 
speaking,  is  not  theirs  alone.  What  part  is  the  American  employer 
taking  or  about  to  take  in  this,  the  most  momentous  of  all  questions 
for  the  United  States  ?  It  is  impossible  certainly  to  say.  In  Hol- 
yoke, indeed,  he  appears  chiefly  in  the  character  of  a  labor-importer; 
but  we  have  already  seen  him,  and  shall  soon  again  see  him,  as  much 
alive  as  the  state,  the  pulpit,  or  the  school,  both  to  the  importance 
of  the  problem,  and  his  large  share  of  responsibility  for  its  solution. 


ion, 
e  la 
one 
I  en- 
en  of 
aense 
upied 
iol  a 
t  mlU- 
Btage. 
jy  per- 
depen- 
ftcteris- 
dr,  tlie 
marm" 
ly  look- 
bespoke 
5  young- 
re  order 
e  Amerl- 

,  the  sing- 
ly after- 
[  measure 
and  well- 
,g  joyous- 
[tenlng  f  a- 
the  pure, 
ofbappy 
ithlaugh- 
Bcatter  to 
worthily, 
the  chosen 

jir  in  such 
[pulpit,  the 
lates.   Ne^ 
a,  properly 

W  employe 
fl  questions 
I     In  Hol- 
Ir-lmporter; 
Vjx  as  much 
lijaportance 
Its  soluUon. 


Chapter  XI. 

THE  REGICIDE  JUDGES.— BIRD-TRACKS.— TIIB  RIOHER  EDUCATION 

OF  WOMEN. 

The  twin  villages  of  Hadley  and  South  Hadley,  in  the  vicinity  of 
Holyoke,  have  each  an  interest  of  their  own  which  must  not  be  over- 
looked. Qoffe  and  Whalley,  two  of  the  so-called  "regicide  judges " 
who  condemned  Charles  I.  to  the  scaffold,  succeeded,  upon  the  resto- 
ration of  the  monarchy,  iu  escaping  from  England  to  America,  while 
the  remainder  of  their  colleagues  ^ero  apprehended  and  executed  as 
traitors.  Landing  at  Boston  in  the  summer  of  1660,  the  fugitives 
took  up  their  residence  at  Cambridge;  but  finding  the  neighborhood 
of  Boston  unsafe,  they  left  it  in  the  following  year  for  New  Haven. 
Here  they  were  well  treated  by  the  minister  and  magistrates,  and, 
for  some  time,  thought  themselves  out  of  danger ;  but  upon  the  news 
that  the  king  had  proclaimed  them  being  brought  to  the  town,  they 
were  obliged  to  abscond.  Towards  the  end  of  March  in  the  same 
year,  however,  they  returned  and  lay  concealed  in  the  house  of  Mr. 
Davenport,  the  minister,  for  a  month.  Learning  that  he  was  threat- 
ened for  concealing  and  comforting  traitors,  they  generously  resolved 
to  give  themselves  up  to  the  authorities.  The  deputy-governor,  how- 
ever, on  being  informed  of  their  whereabouts,  took  no  steps  to  secure 
tb?m,  so,  having  first  shown  themselves  publicly  in  New  Haven,  in 
order  to  clear  Mr.  Davenport  from  suspicion,  they  concealed  them- 
selves in  a  rock-shelter  near  the  city,  which  still  goes  by  the  name  of 
the  "  Judges'  Cave."  Here  they  were  daily  supplied  with  food  by  a 
Mr.  Richard  Sperry,  no  friend  of  kings,  who  sometimes  carried  pro- 
visions himself,  sometimes  sent  them  by  his  boys,  with  directions  to 
leave  the  packet  on  a  certain  stump,  from  which  the  judges  took  it. 
Driven  from  this  shelter  by  the  attacks  of  panthers,  they  found  a 
more  secure  refuge  in  a  valley  not  far  from  the  Judges'  Cave,  and 
here,  or  in  similar  hiding-places,  they  passed  four  miserable  years. 

During  this  time  they  had  many  apparently  narrow  escapes  from 
being  captured,  either  by  the  king's  commissionen.  or  the  local  aur 
thorities,  and  they  would  undoubtedly  have  been  taken  but  that  the 
latter,  sympathizers  with  the  Puritan  rather  than  the  kingly  cause, 
were  more  anxious  to  screen  than  to  arrest  the  judges.  Thus,  one 
day,  when  the  pursuers  were  expected  at  New  Haven,  Goffe  and 

5 


98 


THE  REOICmB  JUDGES. 


Whalley  walked  out  from  their  shelter  along  the  road  by  which  they 
must  enter  tl  e  town.  Here  they  were  overtaken  by  the  sheriff,  who, 
exhibiting  a  warrant  for  their  apprehension,  made  a  show  of  taking 
them  prisoners.  Tliereupon  the  judges  stood  upon  their  defence, 
and,  planting  themselves  back  to  back,  so  defended  themselves  with 
their  sticks  that  they  repelled  the  officer,  who  went  into  town  to  ob- 
tain assistance,  and  upon  his  return  found  they  had  escaped  into  the 
woods. 

On  another  occasion,  when  the  commissioners  were  searching  the 
town,  the  judges,  shifting  their  quarters,  found  themselves,  either  by 
accident  or  design,  at  the  house  of  a  lady,  who  concealed  them  in 
one  apartment  while  she  received  the  commissioners  in  another,  put- 
ting the  latter  politely  and  skilfully  upon  a  wrong  scent.  While  the 
pursuit  was  at  its  hottest,  the  minister,  Mr.  Davenport,  took  occasion 
to  unite  the  people  of  New  Haven  in  caution  and  concealment  by  a 
sermon  preached  from  the  following  text  of  Isaiah  :  "  Take  counsel, 
execute  judgment ;  make  thy  shadow  as  the  night  in  the  midst  of 
noonday  ;  hide  the  outcasts ;  betray  not  him  that  wandereth.  Let 
mine  outcasts  dwell  with  thee,  Moab  ;  be  thou  a  covert  to  them  from 
the  face  of  the  spoiler." 

In  October,  1664,  wearied  out  by  a  pursuit  which  the  good-will  of 
the  people  could  only  mitigate,  Goffe  and  Whalley  gave  the  king's 
commissioners  a  final  slip  and  set  out  for  Hadley.  Travelling  at 
night  and  faithfully  guided,  they  reached  the  house  of  Mr.  Russell, 
the  minister  of  the  village,  after  a  difficult  journey  of  a  hundred 
miles.  The  house  of  this  friendly  cler^-yman  had  been  specially  and 
ingeniously  fitted  up  fo^*  their  reception.  In  the  chamber  assigned 
to  them  was  a  closet  communicating  by  a  trap  and  staircase  with  the 
cellar  below,  into  which  it  was  easy  to  descend,  leaving  no  evidence 
of  flight.  Here,  unknown  to  the  people  of  Hadley,  saving  a  few  con- 
fidants and  the  family  of  Mr.  Russell,  the  judges  remained  for  fifteen 
or  sixteen  years,  and  here  Whalley  died  in  1679.  Soon  after  Whal- 
ley's  death,  Goffe  left  Hadley,  after  which  no  certain  information  of 
him  can  be  obtained.  There  is,  however,  a  tradition  that  he  also 
died  at  Hadley,  and  was  buried  in  the  garden  of  a  Mr.  Tilton,  one  of 
the  few  persons  besides  the  minister  who  knew  of  the  refugees' 
presence. 

The  judges  were  gentlemen  of  worth,  of  dignified  manners  and  ap- 
pearance, commanding  universal  respect,  and  highly  esteemed  by  the 
colonists  for  their  unfeigned  piety.  Both  had  been  generals  in 
Cromwell's  army,  and  both  were  renowned  for  their  skill  with  the 
smallsword,  as  the  following  story  illustrates.  While  the  judges 
were  at  ijoston,  there  came  to  the  town  an  English  fencing-master, 
who,  challenging  all  comers,  could  find  no  rival  with  the  rapier.  At 
length  one  of  the  judges,  disguised  in  rufitic  dress,  holding  a  cheese 


THE  REGICIDE  JUDGES. 


99 


,nd  ap- 
bythe 

rals  in 
th  the 
judges 
[naster, 
ir.  At 
cheese 


in  one  hand,  and  a  dirty  mop  in  the  other,  mounted  the  stage.  The 
swordsman  laughed  at  him  and  bid  him  begone,  but  the  judge  stood 
his  ground,  whereupon  the  Englishman  made  a  pass  at  him  to  drive 
him  away.  The  sword  was  received  in  the  cheese  and  the  mop 
drawn  over  the  master's  face  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  him  a  pair  of 
whiskers.  Making  a  second  pass,  the  blade  was  again  caught  in  the 
same  way,  while  the  mop  was  now  drawn  gently  over  the  eyes.  At 
a  third  lunge  it  was  once  more  held  by  the  cheese  until  the  judge 
had  rubbed  the  mop  all  over  his  opponent's  face.  Thereupon,  let- 
ting fall  his  rapier,  the  swordsman  angrily  snatched  up  a  cutting 
blade,  when  the  seeming  countryman  exclaimed,  "  Stop,  sir  ;  hither- 
to, you  see,  I  have  only  played  with  you,  but  if  you  come  at  me  now 
with  the  broadsword,  know  that  I  will  certainly  take  your  life." 
The  firmness  with  which  he  spoke  struck  the  master  of  fence,  who 
said,  "Who  can  you  be?  Either  GofEe,  Whalley,  or  the  devil,  for 
there  was  no  other  man  in  England  that  could  beat  me." 

The  following  story  of  the  judges  was  handed  down  orally  among 
the  inhabitants  of  Hadley  for  many  years.  "In  the  course  of 
Philip's  war,  which  involved  almost  all  the  Indian  tribes  in  New 
England,  the  inhabitants  of  Hadley  thought  it  proper  to  hold  the  1st 
of  September,  1675,  as  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer.  While  they  were 
in  church  they  were  surprised  by  a  band  of  savages.  The  people  in- 
stantly betook  themselves  to  arms,  which,  according  to  the  custom 
of  the  times,  they  carried  with  them  io  church,  and,  rushing  out  of 
the  house,  attacked  their  invaders.  The  panic  was,  however,  so 
great  and  the  numbers  so  unequal,  that  they  fought  doubtfully  at 
first,  and  in  a  short  time  began  evidently  to  give  way. 

"At  this  moment  an  ancient  man  with  hoary  locks,  of  a  most 
venerable  and  dignified  aspect,  and  in  a  dress  widely  differing  from 
that  of  the  inhabitants,  appeared  suddenly  at  their  head,  and  with  a 
firm  voice  and  an  example  of  undaunted  resolution  reanimated  their 
spirits,  led  them  again  to  the  conflict,  and  totally  routed  the  savages. 
When  the  battle  was  ended  the  stranger  disappeared,  and  no  per- 
son knew  whence  he  had  come  or  whither  he  hud  gone.  The  relief 
was  so  timely,  so  sudden,  so  unexpected,  and  so  providential,  the  ap- 
pearance and  the  retreat  of  him  who  furnished  it  was  so  unaccount- 
able, his  person  was  so  dignified  and  commanding,  his  resolution  so 
superior,  and  his  interference  so  decisive,  that  the  inhabitants,  with- 
out any  uncommon  exercise  of  credulity,  readily  believed  him  to  be 
an  angel,  sent  by  Heaven  for  their  preservation.  Nor  was  this  opin- 
ion seriously  controverted  until  it  was  discovered,  several  years  after- 
wards, that  Ooffe  and  Whalley  had  been  lodged  in  the  house  of  Mr. 
Russell.  Then  it  became  known  that  their  deliverer  was  Oeneral 
Goffe." 

From  Mount  Holyoke,  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Connecticut  River, 


100 


BIRD-TRACKS. 


and  a  few  miles  south  of  Hadley,  is  seen  the  finest  prospect  in  Kew 
England.  At  this  point  the  stream  breaks  through  the  range  of  trap 
hills  forming  its  western  boundary,  and  upon  either  side  of  the  breach 
stands  Mount  Holyoke  and  Mount  Tom  respectively,  the  highest 
crests  in  the  whole  basaltic  line.  The  summit  of  the  former  moun- 
tain is  about  a  thousand  feet  above  the  river,  and  thence  the  eye, 
looking  south,  is  presented  with  a  vast  expansion  embracing  sixty 
miles  of  the  river's  course,  the  ranges  which  bound  it  on  either  side, 
and  an  extent  of  farms,  fields,  forests,  villages,  churches,  hills,  valleys, 
and  plains,  such  as  can  scarcely  be  imagined.  Looking  north,  it 
travels  over  a  basin  twenty  miles  long  and  fifteen  miles  wide,  with 
the  Oreen  Mountains  sweeping  aroimd  its  western,  and  the  Lyme 
range  around  its  eastern  rim,  and  then  fading  away  in  the  distance, 
while,  on  either  hand,  lie  a  number  of  towns  beautifully  disposed  on 
the  flanks  of  the  stream. 

But  the  river  itself,  with  its  splendid  curves  and  margins  of  culti- 
vated land,  forms  the  finest  part  of  the  scenery.  It  here  turns  four 
times  to  the  east  and  three  times  to  the  \^eBt  within  twelve  miles,  and, 
in  that  distance,  makes  a  progress  of  only  twenty-four  miles.  One 
almost  circular  sweep,  called  the  "Ox-bow,"  performs  a  circuit  "of 
three  miles  without  advancing  its  course  towards  the  ocean  by  a  hun- 
dred rods.  The  intervales  which  border  these  graceful  turns  are  dis- 
posed in  terraces,  rising  one  above  the  other  as  they  recede  from  the 
river.  Their  well-tilled  surfaces  are  checkered  by  an  immense  num- 
ber of  fields,  separated  from  each  other  by  imaginary  lines  only,  and 
crops  of  meadow-grass  give  way,  successively,  to  forest,  barley, 
maize,  apple-orchards,  and  tobacco.  Such  is  the  appearance  of  the 
existing  Connecticut  valley,  a  startling  contrast  in  every  respect  to 
that  which  it  presented  in  those  triassic  times  of  whose  strange  birds 
and  reptiles  it  contains  so  many  interesting  records. 

Eighty  years  ago  a  student  of  Williams  College,  named  Pliny 
Moody,  while  ploughing  on  hits  father's  farm  at  South  Hadley,  turned 
over  a  slab  of  sandstone,  whose  under  surface  appeared  as  if  marked 
with  the  tracks  of  a  bird.  This  at  once  attracted  Moody's  attention, 
for  there  was  little  geological  knowledge  in  those  days,  and  he,  like 
every  one  else,  believed  that  the  solid  strata  of  the  earth  had  been 
called  suddenly  into  being  without  passing  through  any  formative 
process.  But  the  student's  common-sense  told  him  that  the  foot- 
prints in  question  were  probably  made  at  a  time  when  the  sandstone 
was  plastic,  and,  having  heard  of  but  one  period  of  aqueous  deposi- 
tion, he  concluded  that  Noah's  raven  had  wandered  about  the  Con- 
necticut valley  in  search  of  dry  land,  at  the  moment  when  this  par- 
ticular slab  emerged,  sott  and  dripping,  from  the  waters  of  the 
Deluge. 

TMrty-five  years  later,  as  Mr.  Draper,  who  lived  at  Greenfield, 


BIBD-TBACKa 


101 


thirty  miles  farther  north,  was  returning  one  Sunday  from  church, 
his  attention  was  directed  to  some  large  paving-stones,  which  also 
exhibited  bird-tracks,  and,  turning  to  his  wife,  he  at  once  remarked, 
"My  dear,  there  are  some  turkey-tracks  made  three  thousand  years 
ago. "  Well,  we  cannot  even  yet,  with  all  our  geological  knowledge, 
date  the  many  similar  indications  of  avian  and  reptilian  life  which 
have  been  found  so  abundantly  in  the  sandstones  of  this  locality,  but 
at  least  we  know  that  neither  raven  nor  turkey  walked  the  shores  of 
the  Connecticut  River  at  the  time  in  question,  for  neither  of  these 
highly  organized  birds  had  yet  come  into  existence. 

The  Connecticut  valley  in  triassic  times  was  an  estuary  thirty  or 
forty  miles  wide,  covered  with  still  and  shallow  waters.  Over  its 
wide  shores  great  reptiles  and  strange  birds  wandered,  leaving  foot- 
prints which,  under  favorable  circumstances,  were  covered  up  with 
mud  or  sand,  and  so  preserved.  The  whole  area  was,  at  the  time, 
slowly  subsiding,  so  that  strata  containing  these  "fossil  footprints," 
as  they  are  now  called,  got  piled  one  upon  the  ciher  to  a  depth  of 
some  five  thousand  feet.  Every  page  in  this  great  book  is  illustrated 
with  fragmentary  pictures  of  the  strange  creatures  living  at  the  time 
in  question,  and  it  has  long  been  the  business  of  science  to  infer  the 
outward  forms  of  these  animals  from  such  marks  as  those  which 
were  first  observed  by  Pliny  Moody. 

Almost  all  of  them  were  reptiles,  although  differing  utterly  from 
anything  we  know  by  that  name  in  the  present  day.  Some,  the  laby- 
rinthodonts,  were  bipeds,  having  feet  twenty  inches  long,  a  stride  of  a 
yard,  and  tall  enough  to  look  over  a  twelve-foot  wall.  Others,  the 
deinosaurs,  had  three-toed,  bird-like  hind-feet,  and  smaller,  four-toed 
fore-feet,  and  they,  while  generally  walking  like  quadrupeds,  could 
raise  themselves  erect  and  march  off  like  gigantic  birds.  Still  other 
saurians  flew  through  the  air  or  swam  in  the  waters  of  the  estuary, 
while  such  birds  as  accompanied  the  former  were  as  yet  little  more 
than  improved  reptiles.  They  measured  height  with  the  amphibians, 
outreaching  them  by  their  longer  necks,  and  had  long  legs,  like  an 
ostrich,  toothed  jaws,  and  lizard-like  tails.  Many  of  them  were  of 
immense  size,  and  one  at  least  must  have  been  larger  than  the  great 
New  Zealand  Moa,  or  Dinomis,  a  bird  for  whose  egg  a  hat  would 
make  a  good  egg-cup. 

After  these  strange  animals  had  flourished  through  the  immense 
period  of  time  necessary  for  the  deposition  of  such  a  thickness  of 
sandstone  as  that  in  which  their  footprints  occur,  reptilian  suprema- 
cy came  to  a  violent  end  in  the  Connecticut  valley.  A  series  of  vol- 
canic eruptions  shook  the  entire  district.  The  level  sandstone  strata 
were  upheaved  and  cracked  in  every  direction,  and  from  the  fissures 
there  issued  innumerable  streams  of  lava.  These  afterwards  cooled 
into  the  basaltic  ridges  which  now  hem  in  the  Connecticut  River  on 


103 


THE  HIOHER  EDUCATION  OF  WOMEN. 


:| 


ni! 


the  west ;  ridges  from  whose  crests  the  traveller  overlooks  a  scene 
impossible  to  match  in  New  England,  and  difficult  to  rival  in  the 
world. 

Mount  Holyoke,  one  of  these  trap  hills,  has  given  its  name  to  the 
female  seminary,  founded  by  Miss  Mary  Lyon,  in  1837,  for  the  higher 
education  of  women.  Little  attention  was  given,  fifty  years  ago,  to 
the  preparation  of  women  for  their  various  useful  and  even  noble 
duties,  while  for  their  talents  and  energy  there  was  neither  training 
nor  openings.  The  curriculum  of  a  finished  education  comprehended 
little  more  than  the  three  R's,  a  superficial  knowledge  of  French, 
music,  and  drawing,  a  smattering  of  polite  literature,  and  some  skill 
in  dancing.  Accomplishments  were  all  that  the  young  women, 
whether  of  England  or  America,  inherited,  half  a  century  ago,  on  the 
passing  away  of  their  school  life.  This  bequeathed  no  legacy  of  do- 
mestic knowledge  to  the  married,  no  resources  from  ennui  to  such 
girls  as  remained  at  home  and  single,  and  no  marketable  acquire- 
ments to  those  who  wished  to  earn  a  living  for  themselves. 

It  was  against  an  education  of  this  kind  and  the  aimless  indiffer- 
entism  of  character  which  it  produces,  against  the  want  of  earnest 
womanhood  and  of  high  ideals,  that  Miss  Lyon  entered  her  protest, 
and  to  remedy  which  she  devoted  her  life.  We  have  not  time  even 
to  glance  at  her  arduous  early  labors,  but  their  results  are  visible  at 
South  Hadley  in  a  great  group  of  handsome  buildings,  standing  re- 
tired in  romantic  grounds,  and  overlooking  the  beautiful  Connecti- 
cut valley. 

About  three  hundred  young  ladies  are  now  receiving  an  education 
of  the  highest  class  at  Mount  Holyoke  Seminary.  Candidates  for  ad- 
mission to  the  junior  classes  must  be  at  least  sixteen  years  of  age, 
and  are  preferred  at  seventeen  or  eighteen.  They  must  be  excep- 
tionally well  taught  in  order  to  pass  the  entrance  examination,  and 
the  regular  course  of  instruction  afterwards  occupies  four  years. 

Nothing  can  be  more  happy  than  the  general  arrangements  of  this 
great  school-college.  The  means  and  appliances  of  study  are  perfect 
and  ample,  the  organization  is  excellent,  the  management  methodic 
and  efficient,  the  life  of  the  students  both  simple  and  refined.  The 
class  and  lecture  rooms,  library,  laboratory,  museum,  and  biological, 
geological,  and  botanical  collections  are  worthy  of  a  great  university. 
So  also  is  the  observatory,  with  its  Alvan  Clark  equatorial  refractor, 
meridian  circle,  sidereal  clock,  and  electrically  recording  chrono- 
graph. Its  curriculum  again,  whether  of  classical,  mathematical,  lit- 
erary, or  scientific  studies,  has  a  university  scope,  while  its  staff  of 
professors  includes  some  thirty  women  of  rare  scholarship  and  edu- 
cational experience,  aided  by  a  half-dozen  or  more  lecturers  on  his- 
tory, science,  and  art,  including  men  of  such  distinction  as  Professor 
Young,  the  astronomer,  and  Professor  Hitchcock,  the  geologist. 


THE  HIGHER  £DVCATION  OF  WOMEN. 


103 


But  Mount  Holyoke  Seminary  is  not  simply  an  advanced  school 
or  college.  Miss  Lyon's  leading  idea  was  to  equip  her  girl-students 
with  something  more  than  knowledge.  She  did  not  think  that 
young  people  should  be  left  to  themselves  morally  at  an  age  when 
they  still  require  years  of  intellectual  training,  and  her  great  aim  was 
to  form  the  character  while  informing  the  mind.  With  this  view, 
she  based  school  upon  family  life.  Teachers  and  students  live  to- 
gether, read  and  recreate  together,  as  well  as  work  together.  Family 
nnd  school  are  so  organized  as  to  form  parts  of  the  same  whole,  each 
advancing  the  interests  of  the  other,  and  both  uniting  to  promote 
the  improvement,  comfort,  and  happiness  of  the  household,  which  is 
bound  together  by  the  family  tie,  rather  than  kept  together  by  re- 
striction. 

Much  more  than  this,  however.  There  is  not  a  single  domestic 
servant  resident  in  the  school,  and,  saving  cooking  and  scrubbing, 
the  whole  work  of  the  house  is  performed  by  the  students  them- 
selves. Every  girl  spends  an  hour  a  day  in  some  defined  service, 
and  as  many  hands  make  light  work,  while  the  laborer  himself  best 
knows  how  to  economize  labor,  it  is  not  surprising  to  find  Mount 
Holyoke  Seminary  distinguished  by  neatness  as  great  and  cleanliness 
as  thorough  as  that  of  the  Shakers  themselves.  )(Vithal,  it  is  no  part 
of  the  founder's  design  to  teach  young  ladies  the  domestic  arts. 
This  branch  <»f  a  woman's  education  is  exceedingly  important,  but  a 
literary  insti  ution  is  not  the  place  to  give  it.  Home  is  the  school, 
and  the  mother  the  teacher,  of  domestic  economy.  Servants  were 
dispensed  with  at  Mount  Holyoke  solely  for  economical  reasons  in 
the  first  place,  but  experience  has  shown  that  valuable  results  in 
the  development  of  character  are  obtained  by  making  every  one  in 
turn  the  servant  of  all.  Hence  the  "  domestic  system ''  has  been  re- 
tained, although  the  liberality  of  individuals  has  placed  the  work' 
which  Miss  Lyon  commenced  beyond  the  need  of  such  minute  econ- 
omy as  the  non-employment  of  servants. 

And  now,  what  do  the  refined  and  ladylike  girls  whom  I  saw  at 
work  in  the  classroom,  the  laboratory,  and  the  museum,  reading  in 
the  library,  or  strolling  through  the  grounds— the  daughters  of  farm- 
ei*s,  traders,  and  professional  men — pay  for  their  excellent  training? 
Just  $175  per  annum,  inclusive  of  every  expense.  It  is  as  if  Girton 
or  Somerville  Hall  opened  their  doors  to  students  for  £35  a  yearl 


Chapter  XII. 


:! 


HARTFORD.— SILK.— "  A  CREAMERY." 

Hartford,  the  capital  of  the  state  of  Connecticut,  is  not  so  much 
a  manufacturing  city  as  the  centre  of  an  immense  banking  and  in- 
surance business.  It  is,  besides,  one  of  the  prettiest  and  pleasantest 
residential  towns  in  New  England,  the  wide  avenues  of  its  charming 
suburbs  being  bordered  with  some  of  the  most  tasteful  homes  in  the 
United  States.  No  reader  would  pardon  me  if  I  omitted  to  say  that 
here  dwells  the  immortal  Mark  Twain,  in  a  quaint  house  of  his  own 
building,  situated  on  Farmington  Avenue.  Near  him  lives  Dudley 
Wamer,  who  must  certainly  have  gained  his  experience  of  *'  pusley  " 
in  some  garden  less  trim  than  his  own.  The  word  reminds  me  that, 
in  the  matte/  oi  gardens,  Hartford  is  a  long  way  ahead  of  most 
American  towns.  The  Yankee  does  not  usually  shine  as  a  horticul- 
turist, contenting  himself  with  a  lawn  and  some  shade  trees,  and 
rarely  making  a  garden,  in  the  English  sense  of  the  word.  Here, 
however,  he  beds  out,  plants,  and  cultivates  under  glass,  with  the 
assiduity  of  a  suburban  Londoner. 

The  city  lies  upon  the  Connecticut  River,  occupying  a  site  which 
was  once  warmly  competed  for  by  the  English  and  Dutch.  The 
latter,  as  we  have  already  seen,  were  the  first  of  the  two  peoples  to 
explore  this  important  stream,  but  a  party  of  Plymouth  adventurers 
succeeded  in  buying  some  land  on  its  banks  from  the  Indians  beforo 
the  Dutch  had  followed  up  their  discoveries  by  making  a  settlement. 
Thereupon  the  Datch  acquired  of  a  chief  named  Sassacus  th''  ^pot 
where  Hartford  now  stands,  erected  a  trading-house  which  they 
called  the  "  House  of  Good  Hope,"  built  a  small  fort  for  its  protec- 
tion, armed  this  with  two  pieces  of  cannon,  and  then  forbade  the 
English  from  ascending  the  river  to  take  possession  of  their  pur- 
chase. This  was  in  1633,  in  the  latter  part  of  which  year  the  Plym- 
outh men  sailed  up  the  Connecticut  River  for  the  purpose  of  set- 
tling "  Windsor,"  and  building  a  trading-house  on  their  land.  At 
the  point  where  Hartford  now  stands  they  found  their  way  opposed 
by  the  Dutch,  who  threatened  to  open  fire  from  their  little  strong- 
hold if  the  party  attempted  to  proceed.  But  William  Holmes,  the 
leader  of  the  English,  was  a  bold  and  resolute  man,  so,  taking  no 
heed  of  threats,  he  pushed  by  the  House  of  Good  Hope,  defying  the 


HARTFOBD. 


105 


Dutch  guns,  which,  happily,  kept  silence.  Thus  was  accomplished 
the  settlement  of  Windsor. 

Although  New  Amsterdam,  the  headquarters  of  the  Dutch,  was 
much  nearer  than  Plymouth,  the  English  were  the  more  enterprising 
people,  and  they  soon  began  to  come  from  Massachusetts  Bay  to  the 
Connecticut  River  by  land  as  well  as  by  water.  Whole  churches 
formed  little  colonies  and  made  their  way  through  the  forests  which 
then  covered  the  country,  seeking  to  exchange  the  inhospitable  soil 
of  Massachusetts  for  the  fertile  bottoms  of  which  they  had  heard 
from  the  Indians. 

In  this  way  the  English  settlement  of  Hartford  was  begun  in 
1635,  although  the  main  body  of  its  first  colonists  did  not  arrive 
there  till  the  following  year.  In  June,  1636,  the  Rev.  Thomas 
Hooker,  a  native  of  England,  a  graduate  of  Cambridge  University, 
and  a  very  remarkable  man,  left  Boston  for  Hartford,  with  a  party 
of  some  hundred  men,  women,  and  children.  They  had  no  guide 
but  the  compass,  and  made  their  way  through  the  primitive  forest 
and  across  swamps  and  rivers  with  the  utmost  difficulty.  They 
drove  their  cattle  before  them,  and  lived  chiefiy  on  the  milk  of  their 
cows.  Each  man  carried  his  own  pack  on  his  back  and  his  arms  in 
his  hands,  while  the  journey  of  a  hundred  miles  occupied  them  a 
fortnight. 

Such  was  the  fashion  in  which  the  Puritans  settled  New  England, 
and  such  were  the  schools  in  which  character  was  formed  in  early 
colonial  days.  The  minister  led  the  flock,  and  there  followed  him 
no  band  of  hungry  adventurers,  but  a  godly  company  owning  and 
relying  upon  the  divine  guidance,  and  often  composed,  as  was  par- 
ticularly the  case  in  the  settlement  of  Hartford,  of  persons  of  figure, 
who  had  lived  in  honor  and  afi3uence  in  England,  and  who  had  pre- 
viously been  entire  strangers  to  fatigues  and  dangers  of  all  kinds. 

In  all  the  annals  of  the  American  colonies  there  is  nothing  more 
remarkable  than  the  extent  and  permanence  of  the  influence  exer- 
cised on  the  future  of  settlements  by  the  character  of  their  early 
founders.  The  Rev.  Thomas  Hooker,  "  the  father  of  Connecticut," 
as  he  was  called,  was  one  of  that  small  nimiber  of  men  who  are  des- 
tined to  have  a  great  and  good  influence  on  the  affairs  of  mankind. 
In  the  infant  colony  in  question  his  authority  was,  indeed,  com- 
manding. Little  was  done  without  his  approbation,  and  everything 
which  he  approved  was  done  as  a  matter  of  course.  The  measures 
which  he  caused  to  be  adopted  were  such  as  stand  the  scrutiny  of 
succeeding  ages,  and  it  is  by  no  mere  accident  that  the  same  moder- 
ation, wisdom,  and  firmness  which  characterized  all  that  Hooker  did 
have  remained  conspicuous  in  the  public  measures  of  Connecticut 
down  to  the  present  time. 

The  lion  of  Hartford  is  "Charter  Oak."    The  Puritan  colonies 

5* 


106 


HARTFOBD. 


had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  about  their  charters,  or  the  parchments 
by  which  the  British  government  secured  to  the  colonists  the  right 
to  make  their  own  laws  and  appoint  their  own  magistrates.  These 
were  their  protection  against  any  injustice  which  governors  coming 
from  England  might  do  them,  whether  by  the  limitation  of  religious 
liberty,  the  restriction  of  commercial  freedom,  or  the  invasion  of 
personal  rights.  So  anxious  were  the  colonists  to  preserve  theso 
charters  that  they  would  side  neither  with  king  nor  parliament  dur- 
ing the  civil  war  in  England,  fearing,  if  they  became  partisans  of 
one  cause,  that  the  adherents  of  the  other  might  oppress  them  if 
ever  they  came  into  power,  and  trying,  therefore,  to  keep  out  of  tho 
war  altogether,  in  order  that  they  might  hold  fast  to  their  charters. 

These  the  English  government  attempted  several  times  to  take 
away,  and,  finally,  James  II.  sent  out  Sir  Edmund  Andros  for  this 
very  purpose,  with  authority  to  act  as  the  royal  governor  of  all  New 
England.  He  came  to  Boston  with  great  pomp  and  state  in  1686, 
and,  soon  after  his  arrival,  both  Massachusetts  and  Rhode  Island 
submitted  to  his  authority.  But  when  he  wrote  to  the  colony  of 
Connecticut  requesting  their  charter,  they  refused  to  give  it  up. 
Thereupon,  Sir  Edmund,  with  his  suite  and  some  regular  troops, 
came  to  Hartford,  demanded  the  charter  from  the  legislative  assem- 
bly, which  was  then  sitting,  and  declared  the  government  of  this 
body  at  an  end. 

The  assembly,  while  It  received  the  royal  goveruoi'  with  every 
consideration,  would  pass  no  resolution  to  surrender,  or  even,  at 
first,  produce  the  charter,  and  the  question  was  warmly  debated  be- 
tween the  legislature  and  Andros  for  an  entire  day.  At  length, 
night  having  fallen,  the  parchment  was  brought  in  and  laid  upon 
the  table,  but  by  this  time  numbers  of  the  townspeople  had  assem- 
bled, and  among  them  were  men  bold  enough  for  any  enterprise. 
Suddenly  a  whistle  was  heard,  and  at  the  same  moment  every  light 
in  the  room  was  extinguished.  The  crowd  remained  orderly  and 
quiet,  and  presently  the  candles  were  officiously  relighted,  but  the 
precious  patent  was  gone,  and  no  one  knew  who  had  taken  it  or 
where  he  had  bestowed  it.  Thereupon,  after  a  stormy  scene,  An- 
dros, in  a  rage,  declared  the  government  annulled  and  Connecticut 
annexed,  by  order  of  the  king,  to  the  other  colonies  which  had  al- 
ready submitted  to  his  rule.  Calling  for  the  record-book  of  the  as- 
sembly, he  wrote  the  word  "  finis  "  below  the  last  entry  in  its  pages, 
and  so  put  an  end,  forever,  as  he  thought,  to  the  independent  gov- 
ernment of  the  colony. 

The  charter  was  carried  oflE  under  cover  of  the  darkness  by  a 
Captain  Wadsworth,  of  Hartford,  who  hid  it  in  a  hollow  tree  front- 
ing the  house  of  Mr.Wyllys,  a  worthy  magistrate,  whence,  within  a 
few  years,  it  was  again  taken  to  form  once  more  the  comer-stone  of 


SILK. 


107 


be- 


sm- 
ise. 


the 

t  or 

lAn- 

licut 

al- 

as- 


a 


government  in  Connecticut;  for,  two  years  after  this  occurrence,  the 
English  revolution  occurred,  and  was  followed  by  a  rebellion  against 
the  tyrannical  royal  governor  of  New  England.  When  the  men  of 
Boston  had  thrown  Sir  Edmund  Andros  into  prison,  Charter  Oak 
gave  up  its  hidden  patent,  and,  at  the  same  moment,  the  word 
"  finis  "  was  erased  from  the  colonial  records  of  Connecticut. 

James  I.,  one  of  the  most  pedantic  of  men  and  stubbornest  of 
kings,  had,  as  everybody  knows,  an  insane  hatred  of  tobacco.  But 
it  is  less  generally  known  that  this  ro^'-il  child  of  prejudice  cher- 
ished an  equally  insane  conviction  that  isdkworms  could  be  success- 
fully reared  in  England,  or  that  he  bent  all  the  energy  of  his  nature 
to  bring  this  about.  Absolute  as  he  was,  however,  it  goes  without 
saying  that  he  grew  no  English  cocoons,  but,  by  a  curious  interac- 
tion of  the  king's  two  crazes,  these  became  the  parents  of  the  silk 
industries  of  America. 

In  1608  James  commenced  his  attempts  to  compel  the  raising  of 
silkworms  in  England,  and  it  required  fourteen  years  of  costly  fail- 
ures to  teach  him  that  the  thing  was  impossible.  Meanwhile  the 
colony  of  Virginia,  chartered  by  the  king  in  1606,  was  becoming 
fairly  prosperous  through  the  cultivation  of  tobacco,  which  was,  in- 
deed, so  largely  grown  that  the  price  of  everything  in  the  colony, 
from  the  rector's  salary  to  a  pair  of  boots,  was  reckoned  at  so  many 
pounds  of  tobacco. 

The  failure  of  his  English  silk  scheme  gave  the  author  of  the 
"  Counterblast "  an  opportunity  to  gratify  his  two  master  passions 
at  one  and  the  same  time;  to  cut  up  the  culture  of  tobacco,  root  and 
branch,  in  Virginia,  and  to  employ  the  colonists  in  rearing  silkworms 
for  him.  The  times,  it  must  be  remembered,  were  those  when  the 
mother  country  regarded  her  colonies  as  existing  solely  for  her  ad- 
vantage, so  that  James  may,  perhaps,  be  excused  if  he  cared  nothing 
about  the  effects  of  his  policy  on  the  prosperity  of  Virginia.  What 
the  royal  protectionist  did  care  for  was  to  make  English  looms  inde- 
pendent of  foreign  silk,  and  the  Virginians  dependent  on  the  Eng- 
lish market  for  the  sale  of  their  cocoons.  With  this  view  he  issued 
a  series  of  peremptory  orders.  The  culture  of  tobacco  must  be 
abandoned.  The  mulberry  must  be  grown  and  silkworms  reared. 
The  company  who  were  managing  the  affairs  of  the  colony  must 
follow  up  his  decrees  by  suitable  legislation. 

These  gentlemen  answered  the  royal  demands  by  imposing  a  fine 
of  ten  pounds  upon  every  tobacco  planter  who  did  not  cultivate  at 
least  ten  mulberry  trees  for  every  hundred  acres  of  his  estate,  and 
thus,  in  the  course  of  a  few  years,  small  quantities  of  raw  silk  began 
to  find  their  way  from  unwilling  growers  in  Virginia  to  England. 
But  presently  came  the  English  civil  war;  the  Stuarts  disappeared, 
and  Cromwell  had  enough  on  his  hands  without  troubling  himself 


108 


BUJC. 


about  the  cultivation  of  sillc  in  a  distant  colony.  In  the  meantime, 
and  in  spite  of  the  "  Counterblast,"  the  Virginian  tobacco  trade  was 
becoming  more  profitable  than  ever,  so  that  if,  during  the  hundred 
years  next  succeeding  the  civil  war,  some  delegate  to  the  colonial 
assembly  would  now  and  then  appear  in  a  waistcoat  of  home-grown 
silk,  King  James's  mulberry-trees  were  almost  all  dead  before  the 
close  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

The  seeds  of  a  new  industry  had,  however,  been  introduced  into  a 
country  where  industry  germinates  mpidly,  and  in  the  course  of  the 
eighteenth  century  every  one  of  the  colonics,  from  Massachusetts  to 
Georgia,  raised  more  or  less  silk.  Most  of  the  colonial  governments, 
indeed,  stimulated  silk-culture  by  handsome  bounties,  and,  in  Con- 
necticut particularly,  the  growth  of  silk  was  general  before  and  dur- 
ing the  Revolution,  surviving,  indeed,  till  as  late  as  1825.  Many  per- 
sons now  living  remember  groves  of  white  mulberry-trees  and  rude 
wooden  cocooneries  where  the  women  of  the  generation  immediately 
following  the  Revolution  used  to  tend  silkworms.  It  was,  however, 
impossible  for  this  business  to  flourish  in  a  country  where  energy 
could  be  applied  with  constantly  increasing  success  to  the  growth  of 
cereals  and  the  raising  of  cattle.  Hence,  during  the  first  quarter  of 
this  century,  American  silk-culture  was  everywhere  languishing, 
even  in  Connecticut,  until  it  was  suddenly  revived  by  a  remarkable 
but  disastrous  speculative  movement,  the  result  of  two  entirely  inde- 
I)endent  stimuli. 

Early  in  1830  the  Lyons  Chamber  of  Commerce  published  a  very 
flattering  report  on  the  quality  of  some  silk  which  had  been  reeled 
in  Philadelphia,  and  in  the  same  and  following  years.  Congress, 
alarmed  at  the  rap' J  growth  of  the  silk  imports,  showed  itself  spe- 
cially desirous  of  promoting  the  cause  of  silk-culture  in  America. 
The  secretary  of  the  treasury  produced  a  very  encouraging  report  on 
the  subject,  and,  stimulated  by  this  and  French  appreciation  of 
American  silk,  every  one  was  thinking  and  talking  of  how  to  revive 
and  enlarge  the  business. 

All  this  excitement  happened  to  coincide  with  the  introduction  of 
a  new  variety  of  the  mulberry-tree  called  Monu  muUieaulU.  An 
acre  of  Mortu  multicaulia,  it  was  said,  would  sustain  silkworms 
enough  to  produce  a  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  of  silk,  worth,  ac- 
cording to  the  Lyons  report,  twenty-five  shillings  a  pound;  while  the 
trees  were  declared  well  suited  to  the  climate  of  New  England  and 
of  remarkably  rapid  growth.  Between  1830  and  1830,  when  the 
bubble  burst,  the  excitement  about  the  new  mulberry-tree,  which 
was  going  to  make  everybody's  fortune,  grew  at  a  geometrical  rate 
of  progression.  Cuttings,  worth  from  twelve  to  twenty  shillings  a 
hundred  in  1884,  were  sold  for  a  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  in 
1837,  while,  in  the  following  year,  single  trees,  once  worth  a  few 


SILK^ 


loa 


cents,  were  purchased  at  forty  shillings  apiece.  One  nurseryman, 
carried  off  his  feet  by  the  demand,  sent  an  agent  to  France,  with 
twenty  thousand  pounds  in  his  pocket,  and  orders  to  buy  a  million 
trees;  but  before  these  were  delivered  the  crash  came,  and  Mortu 
multieaulitwaa  everywhere  going  begging  for  purchasers  at  as  many 
cents  as  it  had  fetched  pounds  only  a  month  before. 

Silk-culture  in  America  never  recovered  from  a  blow  which,  how- 
ever did  not  entirely  destroy  the  hopes  of  many  patriotic  men  who, 
both  in  and  out  of  Congress,  had  done  much  to  encourage  it.  Those, 
however,  who  had  been  hardest  hit  now  thought  it  best  to  begin  the 
manufacture  of  silk  goods  with  imported  material,  while  a  few  still 
clung  to  the  hope  of  growing  raw  silk  in  the  country.  The  experi- 
ence of  more  than  two  hundred  years  had,  indeed,  proved  that  ex- 
cellent silk  can  be  produced  in  the  States,  but,  aside  from  the  greater 
profitableness  of  simpler  crops,  America  could  not  compete  with  the 
highly  skilled  and  cheap  labor  of  the  Chinese  in  reeling  the  cocoons. 
This  has  always  been,  and  still  continues,  an  insurmountable  obsta- 
cle to  the  production  of  raw  silk  in  America,  and  when  it  was  coupled, 
first  with  the  multieaulis  disaster,  and,  four  years  later,  with  a  blight 
that  affectec^  all  the  mulberry-trees  in  the  States,  the  rearing  of  silk- 
worms was  practically  abandoned.  Thus  expired,  after  an  exis^ 
ence,  rather  than  a  life,  of  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  years,  the 
offspring  of  James  I.'s  two  crazes,  which,  dying,  left  behind  them  a 
child  of  some  promise,  the  silk  spinning  and  weaving  industries  of 
America. 

It  was  during  the  fever  fit  of  1838-89  that  the  largest  and  most 
famous  silk-mill  in  America  came  to  the  birth.  The  Cheney  broth- 
ers were  eight  able  sons  of  a  Connecticut  farmer,  and  all  of  them  in 
their  boyhood  had  cultivated  mulberry-trees  and  reared  some  silk- 
worms. Early  in  1888  four  of  them  started  a  silk-mill  at  South 
Manchester,  not  far  from  Hartford,  where,  after  suffering  heavy 
losses  from  the  multieaulis  failure,  they  finally  succeeded  in  becom. 
ing  established  as  makers  of  substantial  goods  of  inferior  quality, 
woven  by  special  machinery  of  their  own  devising  from  silk  waste. 
They  chose  this  class  of  work,  in  the  first  instance,  because  Ameri- 
can silk-mills  were  quite  unable  to  compete  with  European  manu- 
facturers in  the  higher  classes  of  fabrics  at  a  time  when  the  duty  on 
imported  silks  was  less  protective  than  it  is  now.  Their  policy  re- 
sulted in  the  contrivance  of  so  many  improvements  in  the  machin- 
ery which  had  to  be  adapted  to  the  spinning  and  weaving  of  floss 
that  when  the  war  tariff  on  3ilk  rose,  first  to  forty,  and  afterwards 
to  sixty  per  cent.,  the  Cheney  brothers  found  themselves  easily  able 
to  meet  the  severe  home  competition  which  followed,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  upon  the  overpampering  of  the  industry  in  which  they  were 
engaged.'    Thus  the  house  prospered  and  its  business  grew  apace. 


no 


SILK. 


The  South  Manchester  mills  were  supplemented  hy  others  situated 
in  Hartford  itself,  while  the  goods  produced  at  both  places  were 
constantly  improving  in  quality  and  in  reputation. 

But  it  is  not  merely  on  account  of  its  success  and  high  standing 
that  I  malco  use  of  tliis  Arm  as  a  figurehead  for  the  sillc  trade  of 
New  England.  Half  a  dozen  pioneers,  as  energetic  as  the  Cheneys 
themselves,  had  entered  the  same  field  of  enterprise  before  they  did, 
and  a  number  of  excellent  men  followed  them.  Of  the  former,  a 
German,  named  Horstman,  was  the  first  to  introduce  the  Jacquard 
loom  into  America  in  1815;  while  Samuel  Whitemarsh,  commencing 
ten  years  before  the  Cheneys,  did  perhaps  more  than  any  other  man 
for  the  silk  cultivation  and  manufacture  of  America.  But  these 
brothers  were  very  remarkoblo  men,  who  conducted  their  factories 
upon  purely  democratic  principles,  and  who,  consequently,  will  form 
our  first  examples  of  a  certain  type  of  American  employers,  such 
as  I  promised  we  should  find  soon  after  leaving  French-Canadian 
Holyoke. 

It  is  difUcult  for  any  one,  acquainted  only  with  the  average  fac-- 
tory,  to  picture  the  early  manufacturing  life  of  South  Manchester. 
The  mill-hands  were  intelligent  and  well-educated  American  girls, 
whose  relations  with  their  employers  were  those  of  unquestioned 
equality.  Perfect  simplicity  of  life  accompanied  this  democratic 
equality.  The  Cheneys  worked  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  their  op- 
eratives, although  at  the  study  of  foreign  and  improvement  of  homo 
methods  and  machinery,  instead  of  at  the  loom  and  spinning-frame. 
Contact  between  employer  and  employed  was  free  from  any  senco 
of  caste  distinctions,  which,  indeed,  could  have  no  existence  between 
classmates  of  the  common  school,  of  whom,  if  some  were  gifted  with 
more  ingenuity  or  energy  than  others,  all  had  from  childhood  stood 
upon  the  same  social  platform. 

Meanwhile,  as  the  two  great  factories  of  Hartford  and  South  Man- 
chester grew,  they  became,  almost  as  a  matter  of  course,  models  of 
convenience  and  sanitary  excellence.  The  latter  village  was  spe- 
cially designed  to  minister  to  the  health,  comfort,  instruction,  and  en- 
joyment of  its  people ;  the  cottages  for  the  married  employees  have 
each  ample  room,  a  good  garden,  and  a  gas  and  water  supply,  while 
there  are  excellent  boarding-houses  for  the  single,  or  those  who  pre- 
fer not  to  keep  house.  There  is  not  a  fence  in  South  Manchester, 
but  the  pretty  white  houses  lie,  like  those  of  academic  Williamstown, 
scattered  with  regular  irregularity  about  wide  and  tree-shaded  lawns. 
There  is  a  fine  public  hall,  free  library  and  reading-room,  a  first-rate 
school,  an  armory  for  the  military  company,  and  ample  acconuno- 
dation  for  religious  worship,  but,  as  a  matter  of  course,  no  liquor 
saloons. 

If  J  speak  of  South  Manchester  as  it  is,  and  of  its  labor  conditions 


A  CREAMEilY. 


Ill 


1 


or 

liS 


as  they  were,  it  will  be  understood  that  the  latter  could  not  fail  to 
become  modified  by  the  wave  of  foreign  labor,  which  has  risen  al- 
most as  high  in  the  silk  as  in  the  cotton  mills  of  America  since  the 
Cheney  brothers  began  business.  The  native  American  operatives 
with  whom  they  were  excluplvcly  associated  in  tJ»c  earlier  years  of 
their  enterprise  have  now,  for  the  most  part,  left  the  loom  and  the 
spinning-frame  to  become  superintendents  or  masters,  and  their 
places  have  been  largely  taken  by  foreigners.  For  the  improve- 
ment and  welfare  of  these  less-favored  children  of  toil,  however, 
the  Cheneys  acknowledge  an  even  greater  responsibility  than  in  the 
case  of  their  better-instructed  predecessors,  and,  hence.  South  Man- 
chester offers  to  its  French-Canadian,  Irish,  or  Italian  operatives  the 
best  opportunities  for  becoming  as  iatclligent  men  and  women,  as 
good  citizens  of  the  republic,  as  worthy  heads  of  families,  and  own- 
ers of  ns  comfortable  homes  as  the  native  help  that  went  before 
them. 

We  shall,  indeed,  presently  sec  that  the  great  Connecticut  silk- 
throwers  do  but  typify  a  growing  class  of  American  employers,  not, 
I  am  glad  to  say,  confined  to  New  England,  who  view  with  the  ut- 
most alarm  the  prospect  of  labor  falling  from  its  old  and  high  estate 
in  America.  It  is  well  to  take  the  taste  of  the  French-Canadian 
quarter  at  Holyoke  out  of  the  mouth,  as  soon  as  possible,  with  this 
cheering  fact,  but  we  shall  better  discuss  the  plans  by  which  these 
patriotic  captains  of  industry  propose  to  meet  a  grave  national  dan- 
ger after  we  have  looked  a  little  more  closely  into  their  details. 

Meanwhile,  let  us  have  the  curiosity  to  inquire  for  a  few  moments 
why  every  grocer  in  this  town  of  Hartford,  as  in  Kew  England  gen- 
erally, advertises  ' '  creamery  butter "  as  the  best,  and  why,  in  cer- 
tain states,  scarcely  any  dairy  products  are  now  made  except  in  fac- 
tories. Of  these  there  are  nearly  four  thousand  in  America,  or  one 
to  every  nine  hundred  milch  cows  in  the  dairy  state  of  New  York, 
while  American  creameries  altogether  employ  a  capital  of  two  mill- 
ions sterling,  and  eight  thousand  hands;  turn  out  five  million  pounds' 
worth  of  milk,  butter,  and  cheese  per  annum,  and  are  rapidly  increas- 
ing in  numbers. 

The  Maple  Farm,  a  few  miles  from  Hartford,  is  an  establishment 
of  which  we  have,  at  present,  scarcely  any  examples  in  England. 
There  I  drove,  one  lovely  spring  afternoon,  our  road  to  the  butter 
factory  now  crossing  the  rich  bottoms  of  the  Connecticut  River,  now 
climbing  over  high,  basaltic  ridges,  whence  the  eye  wandered  widely 
over  terraced  intervales  carpeted  with  variegated  cropping.  The 
beautiful  "  swallow-tail "  butterfly  (Mac/uwn)  was  our  constant  com- 
panion; while  now  and  again  a  brilliant  oriole  flashed  from  tree  to 
tree,  or  an  occasional  humming-bird  crowned  the  opening  calyx  of 
some  wayside  flower  with  a  diadem  of  quivering  jewels. 


112 


A  CBEAHEBT." 


At  length,  in  a  retired  valley,  we  found  a  charming  little  wooden 
house,  built  in  Queen  Anne  style,  aesthetic  in  color  and  blosely  em- 
bowered with  newly  leaved  maples.  At  the  door  was  a  farmer's 
cart,  whence  a  girl,  standing  within  an  open  gnlle,  her  trim  half- 
length  framed  with  the  sunny  greenery,  was  receiving  milk,  weigh- 
ing it  in  a  specially  contrived  pair  of  scales,  and  discharging  it  into 
a  neighboring  tank.  When  the  last  is  charged  with  the  day's  sup- 
ply, its  contents  arc  allowed  to  flow  into  a  number  of  deep,  circular 
"setting-cans,"  which  stand  immersed  in  a  flowing  stream  of  cold 
spring  water.  Next  morning,  or  twenty-four  hours  later,  the  cans 
are  skimmed  by  means  of  a  long-handled,  conical  ladle,  which,  at  a 
single  dip,  takes  off  all  the  cream.  This  then  flows  into  a  steam- 
jacketed  vat,  where  its  temperature  is  raised  to  fifty-eight  degrees  in 
summer,  and  sixty  to  sixty-four  degrees  in  winter,  rendering  it  fit 
for  churning.  Old-fashioned  "dasher"  churns  are  employed,  and 
are  driven  by  a  steam-engine  which  furnishes  all  the  motive  power 
required  in  the  establishment,  whether  for  dairying  purposes  or  the 
cleansing  of  vessels.  The  butter,  when  formed,  is  "worked"  on  a 
machine  consisting  of  a  revolving  table,  which  turns  under  a  fluted 
wooden  roller  and  thus  mixes  and  consolidates  the  b-itter,  while  the 
buttermilk  flows  away  by  a  peripheral  channel.  The  butter  is 
brought  again  and  again  to  the  roller  by  the  attendant,  using  a  pair 
of  wooden  "hands;"  but,  from  first  to  last,  it  is  untouched  by  the 
fingers.  After  working  it  is  placed  in  a  mass  within  an  ice-cham- 
ber, whence  it  is  taken,  as  required,  and  made  up  into  pats  for  the 
market.  The  pats  are  packed  in  boxes,  shaped  like  a  cake-tin,  each 
of  which  holds  fourteen  pounds,  and  four  of  these  boxes  are  then 
dropped,  one  above  the  other,  into  a  deep  tin  cylinder.  A  fifth  box, 
full  of  ice,  tops  them  up,  and  when  the  cylinder  has  been  closed 
with  a  locked  cover,  it  is  ready  for  despatch  by  rail. 

Maple  Farm  receives  milk  from  thirty  fanners,  who  are  paid  for 
it  at  the  rate  of  6«.  6d.  per  hundred  pounds,  and  who  subsequently 
buy  back  all  the  buttermilk  at  a  halfpenny  per  gallon,  both  of  theso 
being  summer  prices.  No  milk  is  received  except  of  a  certain  spe- 
cific gravity,  or  at  a  higher  temperature  than  eighty  degrees.  Tho 
skim-milk  is  sold  to  pedlers,  who  retail  it  in  the  neighboring  city  of 
.  Hartford,  and  a  small  quantity  of  pure  cream,  put  up  in  bottles  and 
sent  out  ice-cold,  is  disposed  of  at  high  prices  by  the  same  means. 
This  creamery  only  handles  five  thousand  pounds  of  milk,  and 
makes  less  than  two  hundred  pounds  ui  buUer  duily,  uud  Ib  lueie- 
fore  a  very  small  concern,  in  comparison  with  the  immense  estab-' 
lishments  of  New  York  and  other  dairy  states.  Some  of  these  han- 
dle twenty  thousand  pounds  of  milk,  and  make  six  or  seven  hun- 
dred pounds  of  butter  daily,  while  they  are  like  palaces  in  the 
beauty  and  refinement  of  their  construction.    Many  of  the  Ameri- 


A  CBEAMERT.' 


113 


can  creameries  were  originally  started,  and  almost  all  of  them  are 
now  owned  by  associations  of  farmers,  who  make  large  profits  from 
these  undertakings.  It  is  even  said  that  two  well-knowh  New  York 
creamery  owners,  who  at  one  time  ran  some  twenty  of  these  butter 
factories,  were  once  offered,  and  refused,  £10,000  for  their  profits  of 
a  singlo  year. 

In  one  important  and  interesting  particular  Maple  Farm  is  behind 
the  practice  of  tlie  most  advanced  creameries.  The  separation  of 
cream  from  milk,  usually  effected  slowly  by  gravitation,  is  now  in- 
stantaneously produced  by  means  of  centrifugal  separators,  one  of 
whose  best  examples,  the  Laval  machine,  was  shown,  for  the  first 
time  in  England,  at  the  Royal  Agricultural  Society's  meeting  of 
1879.  Milk  from  the  tank  is  allowed  to  run  through  a  tap  into  a 
spheroidal  vessel,  about  a  foot  in  its  larger  diameter,  wiiich  rotates  at 
a  speed  of  six  or  seven  thousand  revolutions  a  minute.  The  heavier 
milk  is,  at  once,  thrown  out  to  the  circumference,  while  the  lighter 
cream  remains  nearer  the  centre  of  the  rotating  vessel,  and  each  is 
drawn  off  from  its  respective  zone  by  suitable  discharge  pipes. 
Cream  is  thus  separated  at  the  rate  of  sixty  gallons  an  hour,  and 
the  action  is  continuous  as  long  as  milk  flows  into  the  machine. 
No  time  is  lost  in  setting,  and  ten  per  cent,  more  cream  is  obtained 
from  milk  by  this  process  than  under  the  old  system. 

The  question  of  creameries  is  of  much  greater  importance  than 
any  person  who  has  not  looked  closely  into  it  would  suppose. 
Twenty  years  ago  scarcely  any  foreign  butter  was  imported  into 
this  country,  but  now  not  one  hundredth  part  of  the  butter  eaten  in 
London  is  of  English  origin.  Great  Britain,  indeed,  buys  twelve 
million  pounds'  worth  of  butter  every  year  from  foreigners,  a  sum 
equalling  in  value  all  her  tea  trade,  or  half  her  sugar  trade,  and  be- 
ing nearly  one  fifth  of  her  largest  import,  com.  Yet  the  climate, 
the  soil,  the  price  of  cows,  wages,  and  the  cost  of  transport  are  all 
in  favor  of  the  native  dairyman,  who,  within  twenty  years,  has  al- 
lowed this  great  trade  to  slip  through  his  fingers.  The  British  farm- 
er makes  his  two  or  ten  dozen  of  butter  weekly,  and  sends  it,  say, 
to  the  London  market,  where  the  retail  butterman  must  go,  very 
early  every  morning,  to  make  a  selection  from  many  hundreds  of 
"flats, "each  differing  in  quality  from  the  other,  f^nd  not  very 
temptingly  displayed  in  wrappings  of  cloth,  or  even  old  newspa- 
pers. Butter  from  Normandy  and  Holland,  on  the  other  hand, 
cornea  forward  in  a  very  diffciuul  way.  It  is  the  produce  of  facto- 
ries where,  after  being  treated  in  the  way  « 'ready  described,  it  is 
put  up,  nattily  papered,  in  boxes  holding  a  dozen  two-pound  rolls. 
The  contents  of  every  box  distinguished  by  a  given  brand  are 
alike  in  color,  taste,  and  quality,  so  that  the  retailer  can  order 
from  day  to  day  with  the  certainty  of  getting  just  what  he  wants 


114 


A  OREAMBBT. 


and  without  any  expenditure  of  time  and  trouble.  A  trade  of 
twelve  millions  per  annum  has  already  beep  lost  to  this  country 
because  English  farmers  do  not  associate  for  the  purpose  of  butter- 
making  as  their  American  brethren  have  done.  More  and  more  of 
this  business  is  being  annually  filched  from  English  homesteads  by 
the  enterprising  owners  of  French  and  Dutch  butter  factories,  and 
it  is  high  time  that  some  of  our  bucolic  Rip  Van  Winkles  should 
awake  to  a  sense  of  what  they  have  lost,  and  make  an  effort  to  re- 
cover it  in  the  creamery. 


Chapter  XIII. 

THE  WILLIMANTIC  THREAD  COMPANY.— "BENEVOLENT' 

OWNING. 


MILL- 


"  The  leaders  of  industry,  if  indastry  is  ever  to  be  led,  are  virtnally  tbe  cnptaiiis 
of  tbe  world.  If  tbere  be  no  nobleness  in  tbem,  there  will  never  be  nn  aris- 
tocracy."—C^blylb. 

The  reader  is  already  aware  that  I  am  one  of  those  who  venture 
to  hope  for  a  future  peace  between  capital  and  labor,  and  a  more 
equitable  distribution  of  the  fruits  of  the  common  toil,  to  be  brought 
about  by  some  as  yet,  perhaps,  undetermined  form  of  co-operative 
production.  But,  regarding  human  institutions,  equally  with  the 
modifications  of  organic  life,  as  products  of  evolution,  I  am  not  dis- 
posed to  "  hurry  up  "  the  slow  growth  of  social  changes,  any  more 
than  to  set  my  heart  upon  breeding  tumblers  from  blue-rocks  within 
some  specified  number  of  generations.  The  inflexible  law,  "mul- 
tiply, vary,  let  the  fittest  live  and  the  unfittest  die,"  has  the  same  ap- 
plication to  the  origin  of  ideas  as  to  the  origin  of  species,  and  the 
lists  are  not  yet,  and  may  not  for  many  years  be,  set  for  an  in- 
ternecine struggle  between  the  wage-earning  system  and  co-opera- 
live  partnership.  Hence  I  welcome,  with  all  my  heart,  any  modi- 
fication of  the  factory  that  differentiates  it  from  the  mere  "  money- 
mill,"  and  none  the  less  warmly,  perhaps,  because  I  cherish  a  secret 
hope  that  through  some  promising  "variety"  of  this  kind  the  line 
of  descent  from  competition  to  co-operation  may  even  now  be 
about  to  pass. 

Certainly,  if  there  is  one  establishment  which,  niiore  than  any 
other  in  America,  encourages  hope  for  the  future  of  labor,  it  is  the 
Willimantic  Thread  Company  of  Connecticut.  I  have  entitled  this 
a  "benevolent"  mill,  not  that  the  word  properly  characterizes  the 
principles  on  which  it  is  conducted,  but  because  those  principles 
have  exactly  the  same  fruits  as  Christian  kindness,  which  really 
regulates  the  factory,  although,  professedly,  only  because  "it  pays." 
Do  not  let  me  be  misunderstood.  These  mills  are  no  industrio- 
religious  or  philanthropic  institution,  but  an  important  commercial 
undertaking,  and  if  I  say  they  are  administered  on  Christian  prin- 
ciples, that  is  because  I  want  to  give  all  the  prominence  I  can  to 
the  fact  that  "doing  as  you  would  be  done  by"  is  the  mainspring 


116 


'  B&NEVOLEKT  "  MILL-OWNmO. 


of  government  at  Willimantic,  and  a  provably  important  factor 
in  the  prosperity  of  the  mills. 

In  a  case  of  this  sort,  it  goes  without  saying  that  there  is  a 
strong  man  with  high  ideals  at  the  helm  of  the  ship,  so  let  me 
at  once  introduce  the  reader  to  Colonel  Barrows,  president  and 
manager  of  the  company.  This  gentleman  was  captain,  and  after- 
wards brevet-major,  on  the  staff  of  General  Webb  during  the  civil 
war,  upon  whose  termination  he  determined  to  learn  the  trade  of 
a  machinist,  and,  with  this  view,  apprenticed  himself  to  the  Lowell 
machine-shop,  where  he  worked  seven  years.  There,  in  the  first 
instance,  he  wheeled  pig-iron,  and  cleaned  castings  at  wages  of  two 
shillings  a  day;  but  when  his  apprenticeship  ended,  he  was  first 
put  in  charge  of  some  paper-mills,  and  afterwards  entered  the 
service  of  the  Willimantic  Thread  Company  as  assistant  treasurer 
in  1874,  to  become  the  general  manager  in  1876. 

From  the  time  of  his  accession  to  this  office  the  work  began 
that  makes  the  company  to-day  a  brilliant  illustration  of  how  much 
mill-owners  can  do  to  advance  the  happiness  and  raise  the  moral 
and  intellectual  condition  of  their  operatives.  Thii ,  in  Colonel 
Barrows'  opinion,  is  a  matter  of  direct  self-interest  foi  employers, 
if  they  could  only  see  it.  "Why  is  it,"  he  asks,  "that  the  Wil- 
limantic thread  will  lift  more  ounces  of  dead  weight  and  is 
smoother  than  any  other?  Every  manufacturer  can  buy  the  same 
cotton  and  the  same  sort  of  machinery  to  work  it.  Why,  then, 
the  superiority  of  our  products?  Simply  because  they  are  made 
by  people  who  know  more  than  any  other  people  in  the  world 
engaged  in  the  same  work.  They  put  more  brains  into  their  work 
than  others  do.  They  are  intelligent  enough  to  know,  the  value  of 
care,  intelligent  enough  to  be  conscientious  about  employing  it,  and 
intelligent  enough  to  know  how  best  to  apply  it  with  skill  to  pro- 
duce the  best  results.  That  is  why  it  pays  us,  directly,  to  increase  ^ 
their  knowledge." 

So  far  Colonel  Barrows'  words.  Let  us  now  go  and  look  at 
his  works.  The  mill  will  invite  us  first,  then  the  library,  reading- 
rooms,  schools,  and  art  schools,  next  the  splendid  co-operative  stores, 
where  his  people — I  had  almost  said  his  family — supply  all  their 
wants.  Afterwards  we  will  visit  the  industrial  village  of  Oakgrove, 
enter  some  of  its  pretty  hoxises,  and  last,  not  least,  spend  a  few 
moments  at  the  president's  own  simple  but  charming  home,  which, 
accessible  to  all  Oakgrove,  crowns  a  little  eminence  in  the  very  centre 
of  the  opemtive  settlement.  " 

The  Willimantic  is  a  small  stream  which,  rising  on  the  eastern 
flank  of  the  Lyme  range,  already  described,  joins  the  Thames  about 
twenty  miles  north  of  the  Sound,  to  debouch  with  the  latter  river  at 
New  London.     The  mills  owe  it  some  thanks  for  power,  but  more 


'  BENEVOLENT     MILL-OWNINO. 


117 


rn 


for  beauty,  as  it  plunges  past  them  in  a  series  of  cas(?ades,  whose 
clear,  brown  waters  throw  themselves,  three  times  in  the  space  of 
half  a  mile,  over  masses  of  gneiss  rocks,  which  art  has  fashioned  into 
dams,  and  Nature  has  adorned  with  the  foliage  of  maple  and  birch. 
Behind  the  green  arbors  which  overarch  the  flashing  water,  rise  the 
shoulders  of  great  wooded  hills,  upon  the  flats  at  whose  feet  stand  the 
mills,  extensive  and  handsome  buildings  of  white  granite,  rising 
from  wide,  closely  mown  lawns,  tastefully  planted  with  maples. 

We  approached  the  newest  and  largest  of  these  flne  workshops 
by  a  wide  gravelled  path,  winding  through  a  garden,  whose  beds 
were  waiting  for  their  summer  dress,  and  entered  the  mill  by  a 
handsome  glazed  porch,  one  of  several  similar  anterooms.  These, 
in  addition  to  being  provide'  with  numbered  closet  spaces  for 
wraps  and  hats,  are  hung  with  pictures,  and  further  decorated  with 
sub-tropical  plants  growing  in  suitable  beds,  so  that  we  seemed  to 
be  on  the  threshold  of  some  great  conservatory,  rather  than  ap- 
proaching a  mill  by  the  work-people's  entrance.  Nor  can  the 
visitor,  at  first,  think  otherwise  on  passing  from  the  porch  into  the 
factory.  The  floor  of  its  vast  single  room,  nearly  a  thousand  feet 
long  and  two  hundred  feet  wide,  contains,  indeed,  fifty  thousand 
spindles;  but  instead  of  looking  upwards  to  a  low,  dark  ceiling 
and  a  chaos  of  whirling  pulleys  and  belts,  the  eye  seeks  the  azure 
of  a  New  England  sky  through  a  roof,  partly  of  clear,  partly  of 
colored,  glass,  prettily  disposed  in  geometrical  designs.  The  motive- 
power  is  in  the  basement  of  the  building,  and  all  the  shafting  is 
housed  in  brick,  tunnel-like  chambers,  beneath  the  floor,  which 
consequently  offers  a  firm,  instead  of  a  disagreeably  jarring,  footing 
to  the  operatives.  The  walls  are  mere  piers,  separating  great  win- 
dows, also  of  clear  and  colored  glass,  below  each  of  which  the  brick- 
wort^  is  fashioned  into  pockets,  filled  with  soil,  and  forming  great 
flower-beds  planted  with  climbers,  such  as  taxonia,  coboea,  and 
English  ivy,  together  with  geraniums,  petunias,  and  flowering  shrubs, 
which  frame  the  spindles,  so  to  speak,  in  roses.  The  huge  room  is 
spotlessly  clean,  and  beside  the  spinning-frames  stand  girls  who, 
although  mill-hands,  may  truly  be  said  to  be  of  from  fifteen  to 
twenty-five  summers.  All  of  them  are  neatly  dressed,  and  wear  a 
uniform  white  linen  apron  of  tasteful  cut,  while  their  f."  ->''  "n*  clean, 
bright,  and  healthful,  and  their  hair  carefully,  often  skilfully,  dressed. 

One  of  the  first  things  to  catch  my  eye  in  the  Willimantic  mills 
was  the  following  notice,  posted  in  all  the  entrance -halls:  "No 
person  who  cannot  read  and  write  will  be  employed  in  this  mill 
after  the  4th  of  July,  1884."  The  paper  was  dusty  and  stained 
with  age,  having  already  hung  for  some  three  years  in  its  place, 
so  that  no  employees  were  without  ample  warning  of  the  manager's 
intentions,  or  the  opportunity  of  learning  in  time,  if  they  did  not 


118 


'  BENEVOLENT  "  MILL-OWNING. 


already  know,  how  to  read  and  write.  It  will  be  understood  that 
almost  all  the  help  at  Williraantic  is  Irish,  with  some  admixture 
of  Canadians;  if  it  were  still,  as  in  the  early  days,  American,  no 
such  paper  would,  of  course,  have  been  seen,  but  Colonel  Barrows 
knows  that  if  he  is  to  "make  Americans  "  of  his  alien  operatives,  he 
must  begin  by  educating  them.  There  is  not,  however,  a  man,  wom- 
an, or  child  in  the  mill  who  will  be  qualified  for  discharge  under 
this  notice  when  it  comes  into  operation  next  Independence  Day. 

The  diiiing-room  is  a  large,  handsome  apartment,  decorated,  like 
the  porches,  with  pictures  and  plants,  where  all  who  please  may  get 
a  capital  mid-day  meal,  well-cooked  and  daintily  served,  for  a  trifling 
sunii.  Here,  too,  at  nine  o'clock  every  morning,  the  younger  hands 
assemble  in  detachments,  to  take  a  cup  of  milk  and  a  slice  of  bread- 
and-butter.  This  light  refreshment  is  furnished  at  the  expense  of 
the  company,  and  may  form  the  first  and  simplest  example  I  have 
to  offer  of  a  benevolence  that  "  pays."  American  mills  begin  work 
at  seven  o'clock,  and  the  first  stop  for  a  meal  is  made  at  noon. 
Five  hours  is  too  long  for  young  people  to  wait  for  food  without  a 
sacrifice  of  vital'energy,  and  hence  it  has  been  found,  by  carefully 
comparing  the  cost  of  time  and  food  in  question  with  the  increase 
of  production  to  which  it  gives  rise,  that  it  pays  to  show  this  at- 
tention to  the  health  of  the  young  hands.  So  marked,  indeed,  was 
the  advantage  that  followed  upon  it  that  Colonel  Barrows  is  now 
trying  a  further  experiment  in  the  same  direction.  A  certain  section  of 
the  help  has  been  selected  to  receive  a  small  cup  of  bouillon  at  10.80 
every  morning,  but  without  leaving  their  machines.  This  had  been 
given  for  three  months  previously  to  my  visit,  and  with  such  effect 
that  I  found  it  easy  to  determine  in  what  section  of  the  factory  the 
experiment  was  in  progress  by  the  greater  appearance  of  physical 
vigor  in  the  operatives.  **  It  is  not  benevolence,"  said  Colonel  Bar- 
rows, "  it  pays;  otherwise  I  could  not  ask  my  directors  to  adopt  the 
plan.  I  proved  the  value  of  the  milk-meal  by  figures  before  I  allowed 
the  company  to  pay  for  it,  and  when  I  can  do  the  same  thing  for  the 
bouillon  I  will  ask  them  to  relieve  me  of  the  cost.  But,"  he  added, 
"  those  girls  go  from  their  work,  as  they  come  to  it,  singing,  laughing, 
almost  dancing,  and  I  know  that,  in  their  high  physical  condition, 
they  cannot  help  turning  out  more  and  better  work  than  the  others." 

"But,"  I  asked,  "your  aesthetic  treatment  of  the  factory  build- 
ings, your  stained-glass  roof  and  windows,  your  little  art  galleries 
in  the  porches  and  dining-room,  and,  above  all,  your  flowers,  and 
the  gardeners  who  care  for  them — do  these  things  pay?"  "Re- 
member," was  the  answer,  "  I  was  my  own  architect  in  this  mill, 
and,  aside  from  expensive  decoration,  of  which,  observe,  there  is 
none,  it  costs  no  more  to  give  an  open  roof  an  eyeable  construction, 
or  to  paint  it  tastefully,  than  to  disregard  appearances  altogether.  As 


'  BENEVOLENT  "  MILL-OWNING. 


119 


led, 


ion, 


Incs 
md 


liU. 
is 
Ion, 
As 


for  the  stained  glass,  I  admit  that  it  has  cost  twenty  pounds  more 
than  plain  glass  would  have  done,  but,  in  so  large  a  building,  that  is 
not  a  ruinous  extravagance.  The  pictures  are  all  presents  or  the 
work  of  our  own  art  school,  and  as  for  the  flowers,  I  must  tell  you 
something  about  cotton-spinning  before  you  can  understand  that 
it  pays  to  'frame  my  spindles  in  roses.' 

"Cotton-spinning  cannot  be  carried  on  except  in.  a  moist  at- 
mosphere, and  America,  with  her  dry  climate,  has  more  difficulty 
in  securing  proper  hygrometrical  conditions  in  the  spinning-rooms 
than  Manchester.  Usually  the  air  is  kept  moist  by  spray-producing 
machines,  called  aspirators,  and  in  our  other  buildings,  not  furnished, 
as  this  is,  with  flowers,  it  is  the  work  of  two  men  to  attend  to 
these  aspirators  and  report  on  the  hourly  condition  of  the  air  in 
the  mill.  But  here  a  single  gardener  does  all  the  work  of  my 
conservatory,  while  the  transpiration  of  the  plants  keeps  the  air 
much  more  equably  moist  than  do  the  aspirators.  In  addition  to 
this,  I  am  sure  that  the  very  intelligence  to  which,  as  I  have  said, 
our  thread  owes  its  superiority  is  fostered  almost  as  much  by  clean- 
liness, order,  and  beauty  as  by  education  itself." 

"Your  idea  is  evidently  to  make  the  factory  something  more 
than  a  mere  workshop?"  I  inquired. 

"I  wish  it  to  be  a  place  only  less  attractive  than  home  itself," 
was  the  answer.  "Factory  work  is  monotonous,  I  grant,  but  not 
more  so,  making  fair  allowance  for  the  stimulus  of  promotion  which 
always  awaits  good  service,  than  the  ordinary  domestic  duties. 
Woik  must  always  be  largely  a  matter  of  routine  for  all  but  very 
high  intellects;  but  routine  itself  need  not  be  dull  when  its  tasks 
are  performed  actively  and  easily  because  health  is  high,  cheerfully 
because  of  reward  and  appreciation,  pleasantly  because  of  intelli- 
gent companionship  and  inspiring  surroundings.  But  it  is  time  for 
us  to  go  and  look  at  the  library." 

Half  a  dozen  words,  on  the  way,  about  the  character  of  the  labor 
which  this  captain  of  industry  commands,  and  which  he  would  lead 
to  such  splendid  social  conquests.  This,  as  I  have  said,  is  almost 
entirely  Irish,  a  nationality  which  passes  through  three  .phases  of 
character  after  being  exported  from  the  Green  Isle  and  semi-starva- 
tion to  plenty  and  free  America.  When  Paddy  first  lands  in  the 
States  he  is  docile  and  well-behaved,  although  ignorant,  as  a  matter 
of  coiu-se.  Presently,  realizing  the  breadth  and  depth  of  American 
independence,  he  kicks  up  his  heels,  and,  for  a  time,  becomes  a  use- 
less and  almost  intolerable  member  of  society.  Lastly,  finding  that, 
even  in  America,  a  f-ir  day's  work  is  required  for  a  fair  day's 
wage,  he  drops  his  airs,  settles  to  some  useful  calling,  if,  happily, 
he  escapes  from  keeping  a  beer-saloon,  and,  having  learned  the 
indispensability  of  an  education  he  does  not  himself  possess,  sends 


130 


'  BENEVOLENT '   MILL-OWNINO. 


his  family  to  the  common  school.  The  children  of  the  first  genera- 
tion improve  upon  the  father  and  mother;  those  of  the  second  are 
better  still;  the  third  can  scarcely  be  distinguished  from  Americans, 
and,  at  Willimantic,  examples  of  every  class  I  have  mentioned  are 
working  together  in  the  mill. 

It  was  for  such  people  that  Colonel  Barrows  opened  his  first 
library,  in  an  old  blacksmith's  shop,  fitted  up  with  bookshelves, 
well  supplied  with  books,  newspapers,  and  magazines,  and  to  which 
every  operative  was  freely  invited.  In  the  early  days  of  the  reading- 
room  its  Irish-American  visitors  behaved  as  only  Irish-American 
youth  can  do.  They  sat  in  the  comfortable  chairs,  hat  on  head 
and  heels  in  air,  chewing  and  spitting,  treating  the  books  without 
respect,  and,  if  they  read  at  all,  discussing  the  newspapers  loudly 
find  foolishly.  "I  used  to  go  down  every  night,"  said  Barrows, 
"  take  off  my  hat  on  entering,  and  read  my  newspaper,  as  I  would 
have  done  at  a  club.  I  never  asserted  myself  or  rated  anybody, 
no  matter  how  bad  his  behavior,  but  courteously  greeted  th3  room 
on  entering  and  leaving,  and  showed  myself  ready  to  chat  over  the 
news,  or,  if  asked,  to  read  aloud,  as  I  would  among  a  company  of 
gentlemen.  It  told  in  time;  for,  meanwhile,  I  was  building  good 
houses  in  Oakgrove,  establishing  the  co-operative  store,  where  it 
soon  became  known  that  the  best  goods  could  be  bad  at  the  lowest 
prices,  organizing  evening  schools  and  art  classes,  so  that  first  the 
better,  and  then  the  worse  sort  began  to  realize  that  I  really  wished 
to  benefit  them,  and  to  meet  my  advances  half-way." 

And  now?  The  old  library  is  abandoned  to  the  smith  once  more. 
A  really  beautiful  Queen  Anne  building  has  been  added  to  the  mill, 
and  contains  a  library  of  two  thousand  volumes,  a  handsome  read- 
ing-room, where  all  the  papers  and  most  of  the  scientific  journals  lie 
upon  the  tables,  an  amply  equipped  art  school,  taught  by  a  New 
Haven  professor,  a  singing  school,  in  charge  of  a  clever  musician,  a 
clerk  ^  the  company's  service,  and  an  evening  school,  taught  by  an 
excellent  "  school-marm,"  the  American  equivalent  of  our  "certifi- 
cated mistress." 

And  w^o  and  what  are  the  readers,  the  students,  and  pupils  of  to- 
day? All  the  male  hands  in  the  mill,  who  look  and  behave  like 
American  mechanics — that  is  to  say,  like  gentlemen — and  a  great 
company  of  bright,  intelligent  girls,  pictures  of  health  in  appear- 
ance, as  neatly  dressed  and  as  well,  if  not  quite  as  finely  mannered, 
as  the  students  of  Mount  Holyoke  itself.  These  meet  after  the  day '6 
active,  but  not  exhausting,  work  is  over,  like  some  industrial  family, 
far  more  eager  than  the  daughters  of  an  easy  and  luxurious  life  for 
a  few  hours  of  intellectual  refreshment,  and  they  scatter,  when  night 
empties  conversation,  class,  and  lecture  rooms,  to  homes  as  worthy 
of  workine  men  and  women  as  are  the  mills  themselves. 


'  BENEVOLENT  "  MILL-OWNINO. 


121 


t 

B 

)t 

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;h 
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ad 

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uy 

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dy. 

K)m 
the 

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rood 

re  it 
west 
t  the 
ished 


of  to- 
re like 

great 
Ippear- 
Inered, 

day's 
tamily, 
life  for 

t  night 

rorthy 


Leaving  this  beautiful  building— no  crude,  whitewashed  home  of 
elementary  culture,  but  tasteful,  refined,  and  well-ordered  as  a  club 
in  its  design,  decoration,  and  keeping — this  legend,  conspicuous  on 
the  library  walls,  was  the  last,  as  it  had  been  the  first  thing  upon 
which, entering,  my  eyes  rested:  "Remember  that  the  learning  of 
the  few  is  despotism,  the  learning  of  the  multitude  is  liberty,  and 
that  intelligent  and  principled  liberty  is  fame,  wisdom,  and  power. 
The  well-educated  operative  does  more  work,  does  it  better,  earns 
more  money,  commands  more  confidence,  rises  faster  and  to  higher 
posts  in  his  employment  than  the  uneducated  workman  can." — 
Horace  Mann. 

The  co-operative  store,  if  it  did  not  begin  in  a  smithy,  was  first 
opened  in  a  coal-shed.  Finding  that  his  operatives  were  paying  two 
dollars  a  ton  more  for  their  fuel  than  the  company.  Colonel  Barrows 
gave  notice  that  they  might  buy  from  the  company's  stores  at  cost. 
Then  he  ascertained  that  they  were  giving  too  much  at  the  shops  for 
flour,  so  he  treated  this  as  he  had  done  the  coal  supply,  and,  finally, 
opened  three  other  departments,  one  for  groceries,  a  second  for  meat, 
and  a  third  for  dry  goods,  shoes,  and  millinery.  Thus,  in  the  course 
of  a  short  time  after  his  coming  to  Willimantic,  his  people  were  able 
to  buy  everything  they  wanted  about  ten  per  cent,  below  retail 
prices,  while  Barrows,  true  to  his  love  of  the  comme  ilfaut,  has  made 
his  shop  a  perfect  miracle  of  cleanliness  and  order,  vying  in  these 
respects  with  the  mill  itself. 

"The  colonel  has  a  fixed  idea  that  by  placing  people  among  pleas- 
ant and  beautiful  surroundings  they  become  more  careful,  cleanly, 
tasteful,  and  intelligent,  and,  therefore,  as  he  is  never  tired  of  insist- 
ing, more  valuable  to  their  employers.  So,  by  and  by,  he  began 
building  cottages  for  his  hands  on  a  picturesque  and  wooded  site  on 
the  south  side  of  the  river  known  as  the  Oaks.  Oakgrove  is  like 
Zenas  Crane's  industrial  village  at  Dalton,  but  with  one  important 
difference.  It  was  designed  by  a  man  who,  if  an  American  by  birth, 
is  an  artist  by  nature.  Hence  gridiron  streets  and  duplicate  houses 
have  given  way  at  Willimantic  to  curving  roads  and  dwellings  made 
to  seem  all  unlike  by  the  simple  and  inexpensive  device  of  repeating 
three  types  of  construction  instead  of  only  one,  and  planting  these 
with  studied  irregularity  on  their  sites.  Three  grades  of  accommo- 
dation are  thus  provided,  the  rents  in  all  cases  being  fixed  at  such  a 
sum  as  will  pay  five  per  cent,  on  outlay.  Every  cottage  is  sur- 
rounded by  a  garden,  and  the  gardener  who  attends  to  the  mill  sup- 
plies the  people  with  cuttings  and  teaches  them  how  to  cultivate 
flowers.  The  president  offers  a  prize  for  the  door-yard  that  is  hand- 
somest in  appearance  on  the  first  day  of  every  September,  and  great 
is  the  competition,  greater  the  general  taste  for  floriculture,  thus  be* 
gotten. 

6 


133 


"benevolent"  MILL-OWNINa. 


We  visited  two  of  tliese  homes  of  industry.  The  first  was  tenanted 
by  a  Freneli-Canadian  family,  only  one  of  whoso  members  could 
speak  good  English.  She,  a  comely  girl  of  eighteen,  told  us  that 
her  parents  and  the  three  elder  girls,  of  whom  she  was  one,  worked 
in  the  mill,  earning  together  five  pounds  a  week;  that  their  rent  was 
five  shillings  a  week;  that  the  younger  children  were  at  school,  and 
the  three  working  girls  pupils  of  the  evening  and  art  classes.  A 
glance  at  the  spotless  kitchen,  at  the  mother's  neat  appearance,  at 
the  father's  trim  garden,  told  the  rest  of  their  simple  story.  Here 
was  a  family  who,  if  they  had  fallen  on  careless  employers,  might 
have  helped  still  further  to  crowd  the  flats  of  some  Holyoke,  but 
who  had  instead  been  lifted  into  higher  conditions  of  life  than  they 
had  ever  previously  known,  by  a  "  benevolence  "  which  pays  its  own 
way.  The  second  house  was  the  residence  of  the  electrical  expert 
who  looks  after  the  Edison  lights  in  the  mill.  He,  of  course,  was  a 
Yankee,  and  a  highly  paid  man.  We  spent  half  an  hour  chatting 
pleasantly  with  him,  and  it  did  not  surprise  me,  after  some  experi- 
ence of  American  skilled  labor,  to  find  his  house,  if  somewhat  sim- 
pler, as  attractive  as  that,  say,  of  an  English  clergyman,  while  its 
books  and  papers  gave  ample  evidence  of  the  owner's  familiarity 
with  the  world  of  commerce  and  science. 

On  our  way  to  the  chief's  house  we  met  a  staid  but  sweet-voiced 
lady,  dressed  in  gray,  with  a  bunch  of  flowers  in  one  hand  and  a 
little  memorandum-book  in  the  other.  The  colonel  stopped  to 
speak  with  her,  and  I,  by  and  by,  became  aware  that  this  was  his 
"mission-woman,"  who  visits  sick  homes,  ascertains  all  wants, 
lightens  many  a  weary  hour  of  suffering  by  her  presence,  and 
brightens  many  an  invalid  room  with  flowers  from  the  mill,  whilo 
taking  shrewd  note  of  the  condition  of  every  house  she  enters,  re- 
porting her  daily  "fvork  to  the  president,  and  taking  counsel  with 
him  in  any  cases  of  difficulty.  "  I  would  back  the  girls  in  my  mill 
against  any  ladies'  college  in  .America,"  said  he,  as  she  left  us, 
"whether  for  intelligence  or  virtue;  but  a  wise  and  good  woman 
always  among  the  people  does  as  much  to  keep  us  free  of  the  be- 
ginnings of  evil  as  the  school  or  the  pulpit." 

A  moment  later  we  reached  the  door  of  one  of  the  most  tasteful 
but  oddest  houses  I  have  ever  seen.  "  This  is  my  bungalow,"  said 
Barrows,  "  I  hope  you  will  like  it.  One  of  the  chief  objects  I  had 
in  view  when  designing  it  Avas  to  show  my  people  that  beauty  can  ■ 
be  had  without  much  money,  and  that  a  pretty  home  is  within  tlie 
reach  of  every  operative. "  The  walls  are  all  made  of  old  materials, 
or,  rather,  of  overburned  and  distorted  bricks,  the  refuse  of  a  neigh- 
boring kiln.  The  courses  are  irregular  in  consequence,  but  taste- 
fully so,  and  pretty  climbers  make  the  straggling  Elizabethan  cot- 
tage still  more  picturesque.    The  woodwork  of  the  doors,  windows. 


'BBNEYOUSNT      MILL-OWMINO. 


128 


and  8taircafM;s  havo  uo  mouldings,  but  constructive  skill  takes  the 
place  of  other  decoration,  while  the  unpolished  surfaces  of  native 
walnut  and  chestnut,  two  of  the  cheapest  American  woods,  replace 
nil  paint.  We  entered  a  central  hall,  lighted  from  the  roof,  whoso 
simple  structural  features  were  neither  decorated  nor  concealed, 
and  I  looked  in  admiration  round  a  noble  yet  homelike  apartment, 
whose  hangings,  pictures,  books,  and  furniture  bespoke  rcflned  taste 
and,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  a  long  purse  as  well.  "  You  have  made  a 
palace  of  your  cottage,  colonel,"  I  said;  "  surely  these  embroideries 
and  pictures  are  no  examples  for  wage-earners  to  copy."  "  Every 
one  of  them  is  the  work  of  my  wife,"  was  the  answer,  "as  they 
might  be  those  of  our  art-scholars.  Come  and  look  at  her  studio." 
I  was  not  fortunate  enough  to  see  the  mistress  of  this  charming  re- 
treat, who  was  absent  for  the  moment  from  her  delightful  home, 
but  it  was  easy  to  see  that  Colonel  Barrows  possesses  an  able  coad- 
jutor as  well  as  a  "woman  who  exalts"  in  his  wife.  Her  rooms 
are  open  to  every  mill-girl  in  Oakgrove,  their  adornments  arc  things 
for  her  to  study,  their  refinements  goals  for  the  granddaughters  of 
Irish  peasants  to  reach.  Meanwhile,  if  there  is  no  "Lady  Bounti- 
ful "  to  patronize,  there  is  counsel  for  trouble,  sympathy  for  a£9ic- 
tion,  and  encouragement  for  energy  awaiting  every  operative  who 
enters  the  chief's  doors. 

That  this  is  no  traveller's  tale,  no  exaggerated  account  of  what  I 
saw  at  Willimantic,  let  the  president's  parting  remarks  testify.  It 
was  time  I  should  go,  having  already  absorbed  many  hours  of  my 
kind  entertainer's  day,  so  much  interested  was  I  in  all  he  had  to 
show  or  say.  Shaking  hands  at  his  door,  whence  we  surveyed  the 
cottages  of  Oakgrove,  crowding  around  the  very  feet  of  the  larger 
house,  I  said,  "You  prefer,  then,  to  live  surrounded  by  your  em- 
ployees, and  do  not  mind  the  white  flutter  of  washing-days,  or  the 
shouts  of  children  at  play  below,  because  you  think  you  can  better 
their  lot  by  your  presence?"  "It  is  not,  with  me,  a  question  of 
preference  at  all,"  was  the  reply.  "  This  mill  and^these^eople  are 
my  life,  my  career,  the  next  greatest  responsibility  I  have  in  the 
world  after  that  of  my  own  family.  I  dare  as  soon  desert  my  flag 
in  action  as  leave  my  hands  without  their  natural  and  appointed 
head.    Good-bye." 


Chapter  XIV. 

LOWELL,  PAST  AND  PRESENT. 

"  Let  the  captains  of  indneitry  retire  into  their  own  heartv,  and  ntlc  toletnnly  if 
there  \i  nothing  bnt  vulturona  bnnger  for  fine  wines,  valet  reputations,  and  giit 
carriitgCB  discovornble  there?  And  then  who  fceiest  anght  of  a  godlilce  stirring 
in  thee,  follow  it,  I  conjure  thee.  Arise,  save  thyself;  be  one  of  those  that  save 
thy  country."— CABI.TI.K. 

We  already  know  that  a  high  condition  of  lahor  in  New  England 
is  a  survival  of  a  state  of  things  once  much  more  general  than  at 
present,  and  wo  have  seen  it,  now  threatened,  as  at  Holyokc,  with 
complete  submergence  under  the  waves  of  foreign  immigration,  now 
lifted,  as  at  Willimantic,  to  an  even  greater  height  than  in  the  early 
days,  according  as  laissez-faire  is,  or  is  not,  king.  In  the  early  days, 
indeed,  laissez-faire  had  no  share  in  the  administration  of  the  New 
England  factory,  which,  at  a  time  when  labor  was  most  degraded  in 
Europe,  was  conducted  with  the  utmost  care  for  the  mental,  moral, 
and  physical  condition  of  the  operative. 

In  the  beginning  of  this  century  the  public  opinion  of  New  Eng- 
land was  very  unfriendly  to  the  establishment  of  manufactories,  so 
great  were  the  complaints  then  made  in  Europe  of  these  as  the  seats 
of  vice  and  disease.  Thus,  when  Ilumphreysville,  the  first  indus- 
trial village  on  the  Naugatuck  River,  was  built  by  the  Hon.  David 
Humphreys,  in  1804,  discreet  parents  were  reluctant  to  place  theii 
sons  and  daughters  in  its  paper,  woollen,  and  cotton  factories,  from 
unfavorable  apprehensions  concerning  the  tendency  of  such  estab- 
lishments. This  notwithstanding  tlie  fact  that  General  Humphreys' 
desire  to  foster  American  manufactures  was  solely  the  result  of  pa- 
triotic motives,  and  that  he  began  the  work  with  the  avowed  deter- 
mination, either  to  prevent  the  evils  of  the  European  factory  system 
from  arising,  or,  if  this  could  not  be  done,  to  give  up  his  design. 
Hence  he  built  comfortable  and  healthy  houses  for  the  accommoda- 
tion of  all  his  hands,  who  were  abundantly  supplied  with  vegetables 
from  great  gardens  in  the  rear  of  the  manufactories.  All  his  ap- 
prentices were  regularly  instructed  in  reading,  writing,  and  arithme- 
tic, and  any  operative  discovered  to  be  in  any  way  immoral  was  im- 
mediately discharged. 

The  same  public  opinion  which  stimulated  Humphreys'  efforts  for 
the  moral  and  physical  health  of  his  people  influenced  the  state  leg- 


LOWELL,  PAST  Aim  PRBBENT. 


195 


islaturo  of  that  day.  Humphreysville  was  still  in  its  infancy  when 
a  law  was  passed  constituting  the  selectmen  and  magistracy  of  any 
town  in  which  manufactories  had  been,  or  should  be,  established, 
visitors  of  those  institutions.  The  same  statute  required  employers 
to  control,  in  a  specitled  manner,  the  morals  of  their  worlimcn,  and 
to  educate  their  children  as  other  children  of  plain  families  were  ed- 
ucated throughout  the  state.  The  visitors  were  charged  to  inquire 
in  what  manner  those  duties  were  performed  by  the  mill-owner,  and 
to  report 'any  laxity  on  his  part  to  the  state  legislature.  Thus,  con- 
trary to  what  had  occurred  in  Europe,  the  beginnings  of  manufac- 
turing enterprise  in  America  were  marked  by  special  efforts  to  secure 
the  health,  education,  and  morality  of  the  operatives,  while  the  idea 
of  the  mill-owner's  direct  responsibility  for  the  intelligence  and  goo<l 
behavior  of  his  employees  was  firmly  established  in  the  public  mind. 

It  was  during  the  time  when  this  responsibility  was  fully  recog- 
nized that  the  most  important  industrial  town  in  New  England 
camo  to  the  birth.  Harriet  Martineau  and  Charles  Dickens  are 
only  two  among  many  distinguished  writers  who  have  sketched 
the  factory  life  of  Lowell,  such  as  it  was  forty  years  ago,  and  given 
the  world  pictures  which,  if  they  once  caused  some  silly  people  to 
laugh  at  the  "  refinements  of  factory  girls,"  were  none  the  less  oc- 
casions of  astonishment  and  delight  to  all  sensible  men  at  the  time 
they  were  published.  But  everything  is  changed  since  then,  and 
Lowell  no  longer  knows  the  girl  who  tended  a  spinning-frame  dur- 
ing the  day  and  wrote  for  the  Lowell  Offering  at  night.  Successive 
waves  of  Irish  and  Canadian  immigrants  have  swept  her  out  of  tho 
factories  which  now,  better  than  any  other  establishments  in  New 
England,  exemplify  the  extent  and  charrctcr  of  recent  alterations  in 
American  labor  conditions.  Let  me  try,  with  the  assistance  of  a 
lady,  herself  formerly  a  mill-hand,  and  who  has  recently  given  the 
world  an  account  of  "Early  Factory  Labor  in  New  England,"*  to 
sketch  what  the  life  of  a  Lowell  cotton-spinner  once  was,  while  a 
stroll  through  the  city  will  afterwards  tell  us  what  it  now  is. 

In  1832  Lowell  was  little  more  than  a  village.  Five  "corpora- 
tions "  had  started  cotton-spinning  there,  but  their  mills  were  not  yet 
all  built.  Help  was  in  great  demand,  and*storics  were  told  all  over 
the  country  of  the  new  factory  town  and  the  high  wages  that  were 
offered  to  all  classes  of  workpeople;  stories  that  reached  the  cars  of 
farmers'  and  mechanics'  sons,  and  gave  new  life  to  dependent  wom- 
en in  distant  towns  and  farmhouses.  Into  this  Yankee  Eldorado 
needy  people  soon  began  to  pour  by  the  stage-coach  and  canal-boat. 
Some  of  them  were  daughters  of  professional  men,  whose  mothers, 
left  widows,  were  struggling  to  maintain  the  younger  children. 

*  Report  of  the  Hnssncbnsetts  Burenn  of  Lnbor  Statistics,  1S$3. 


126 


LOWELL,  PAST  AND  PBESENT. 


Others  had  fathers  and  mothers  in  reduced  circumstances,  to  whom 
they  sent  home  part  of  their  wages,  while  ostensibly  away  from 
home  "on  a  visit."  A  few  were  people  of  mysterious  antecedents, 
but  the  bulk  were  the  daughters  of  New  England  farmers,  store- 
keepers, and  mechanics.  These  country  girls  arrived,  dressed  in 
outlandish  fashions,  tlieir  arms  brimful  of  bandboxes,  containing  all 
their  worldly  goods.  Their  names  were  as  old-fashioned  as  their 
appearance,  notwithstanding  which,  Triphcna,  Eezia,  and  Saman- 
tha,  Lovey,  Leafy,  and  Plumy  soon  learned  the  ways  of  the  town, 
and  their  early  earnings  made  them  as  modish  as  the  oldest  mill- 
hands  in  Lowell. 

At  this  time,  it  must  be  remembered,  there  was  no  lower  caste 
than  that  of  factory-girl  known  among  the  women  who  earned  their 
own  living  in  Europe.  There  she  was  little  better  than  a  slave, 
while  her  surroundings  were  most  unfavorable  to  purity  and  self- 
respect.  All  this  was  well-known  in  America,  and,  at  first,  created 
a  prejudice  against  factory  labor,  which,  however,  gradually  gave 
way  as  the  Lowell  mills  began  to  fill  with  healthy  and  energetic  New 
England  women,  who  brought  the  manners  and  independence  of 
the  country  to  the  town,  and  soon  began  to  make  the  latter  an  even 
better,  because  more  stimulating,  school  of  intelligence  than  the  for- 
mer had  ever  been. 

Help,  on  the  other  hand,  was  much  too  valuable  to  be  oppressed, 
while  public  opinion  demanded  from  mill-owners,  agents,  and  over- 
seers that  responsible  care  for  its  operatives  which  has  already  been 
described  and  discussed.  Hence,  in  the  factory,  the  rights  of  tho 
mill-girls  were  strictly  respected.  They  were  subjected  to  no  extor- 
tion. Their  own  accounts  of  labor  done  by  piece-work  were  ac- 
cepted. Though  their  hours  were  long,  they  were  not  overworked, 
and  had  plenty  of  time  to  sit  and  rest.  Personally,  they  were  treated 
with  consideration  by  their  employers,  between  whom  and  them- 
selves a  feeling  of  respectful  equality  existed.  The  best  girls  were 
invited,  sometimes  to  the  houses  of  the  mill-owners  or  superinten- 
dents, at  others  by  the  clergy  or  deacons  of  the  churches,  and  not  a 
few  of  them  married  into  the  best  families  in  Lowell. 

At  first  the  mill-girls  had  but  small  chance  to  acquire  any  book- 
learning.  But,  after  a  time,  evening  schools  were  established,  while, 
in  1836,  several  of  the  larger  corporations  compelled  every  child  in 
their  mills  under  fourteen  years  of  age  to  attend  school  for  three 
months  in  the  year.  Some  evening  classes,  catering  for  older  pu- 
pils, were  devoted  entirely  to  one  particular  study.  Thus  there 
were  geogi'aphy  schools,  rhetoric  schools,  and  schools  for  the  teach- 
ing of  composition  and  prose-writing,  where  a  taste  for  literature 
was  sedulously  cultivated. 

Meanwhile  the  girls  lived  in  great  bo&rding-houses  belonging  to 


LOWELL,  PAST  AND  PRESENT. 


127 


the  various  corporations,  and  kept  by  widows,  women  of  l:nown 
higli  character,  who  were  often  also  the  friends  and  advisers  of 
their  boarders.  Each  house  was  a  community,  where  fifty  or  sixty 
young  women  from  different  parts  of  New  England  lived  io^jcther 
like  a  great  family.  When  not  at  work  or  at  school,  they  sat  in 
their  chambers,  talking  and  sewing,  for  all  were  their  own  dress- 
makers, or  in  some  corner  of  the  large  dining-hall,  reading,  study- 
ing, or  writing.  Dickens  speaks  with  astonishment  of  the  home-life 
in  one  if  these  boarding-houses,  where  "there  is  always  a  piano, 
and  nearly  all  the  young  ladies  subscribe  to  circulating  libraries;" 
but  he  was  by  no  means  the  only  distinguished  writer  who  went  to 
see  for  himself  how  the  Lowell  mill-girls  lived,  and  told  the  world 
a  similar  story. 

If  I  have  said  nothing  as  yet  about  the  morality  of  tJie  mill  in 
those  early  days,  that  is  l)ecause  this  could  not  be  otherwise  than 
pure  in  such  an  atmosphere  as  had  been  created  at  Lowell.  The 
mill-girls  were  religious  by  training  and  Puritan  inheritance,  and 
upon  entering  a  factory  each  one  was  obliged  to  sign  a  "regulation 
paper,"  which,  among  other  things,  required  her  to  attend  regularly 
at  some  place  of  public  worship.  There  were,  at  one  time,  fourteen 
organized  religious  societies  in  Lowell,  ten  of  which  constituted  a 
Sabbath-school  Union,  comprising  more  than  five  thousand  scholars, 
of  whom  three  fourths  were  mill-girls.  On  Sunday  mornings  the 
streets  were  alive  with  young  women  going  or  returning  from  Sab- 
bath-school or  meeting,  and  the  spectacle  of  so  many  bright  girls, 
in  the  bloom  of  life  and  holiday  dress,  has  roused  the  enthusiasm  of 
more  than  one  European  visitor  to  the  "wonderful  city  of  spindles 
and  looms."  The  same  regulation  paper  which  commanded  church 
attendance  required  every  girl  to  be  of  good  moral  character,  and 
if  any  one  proved  otherwise  she  was  at  once  turned  out  of  the  mill. 
The  standard  of  behavior  was,  however,  so  high  that  rules  of  con- 
duct were  practically  dead  letters,  so  markedly  did  the  majority  sep- 
arate themselves  from  girls  who  were  suspected  of  wrong-doing. 

Society  and  communication,  those  best  gifts  of  a  great  city,  wero 
just  what  these  New  England  girls  needed  for  the  development  of 
their  native  powers.  They  were  omnivorous  readers,  some  of  them 
even  students  of  the  classical  languages  and  mathematical  science, 
and  they  discussed  the  books  they  read,  debated  social  and  religious 
questions,  compared  ideas  and  experiences,  and  generally  advised 
and  helped  one  another.  Such,  indeed,  was  the  reputation  of  Low 
ell,  at  one  time,  that  many  girls  came  there  as  to  an  Alma  Mater, 
leaving  comfortable  homes  for  the  mill,  ntt  because  it  was  needful 
for  them  to  earn  money,  but  in  order  to  m  ike  use  of  social  and  lit- 
erary advantages  which  could  not  be  found  in  remote  and  secluded 
farmhouses. 


128 


LOWELL,  PAST  AND  PRBBENT. 


Hi! 


At  length  the  intellectual  activity  which  had  been  fostered  by 
evening-schools  and  lyceum  lectures,  by  reading  and  discussion,  is- 
sued in  the  publication  of  the  Lowell  Offering,  with  whose  selected 
writings  Miss  Martineau  made  us  first  acquainted  in  her  "Mind 
among  the  Spindles."  The  Offering,  a  very  modest  magazine,  came 
to  the  birth  in  1840,  and  died  in  1849,  a  date  which  reminds  us  that 
the  first  wave  of  the  great  Irish  emigration,  following  upon  the  po- 
tato famine,  had  already  begun  to  rise  in  those  New  England  mills, 
whence  it  was  presently  to  sweep  the  higher  type  of  labor  almost 
entirely  away.  There  is  no  need  to  speak  of  the  literary  merits  of 
the  Lowell  Offenng.  Its  articles  were  often  crude,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  but  its  pages  were  the  nureery  wherein  Lucy  Larcom  and 
Margaret  Foley,  to  say  nothing  of  many  less  distinguished  women, 
grew  from  literary  childhood  to  rare  maturity  of  merit.  But  there 
were  some  remarkable  mill-girls  at  Lowell  in  those  early  days  who 
were  not  writers  for  the  Offering.  One  became  an  artist  of  note, 
another  a  poet  of  more  than  local  fame,  a  third  was  an  inventor,  a 
fourth  one  of  the  best  advocates  of  women's  rights,  a  fifth  the 
founder  of  a  free  library  in  her  native  town.  Some  became  teach- 
ers and  others  missionaries,  a  great  many  married  either  profes- 
sional men  or  storekeepers,  and  a  few  became  the  wives  of  clergy- 
men and  members  of  Congress. 

Such  was  Lowell  only  forty  years  ago,  and  such  might  every 
factory  town  in  America  again  become  if  its  citizens  were  as  sensi- 
ble of  their  responsibilities,  its  mill-owners  as  conscientious,  and  its 
help  as  well-principled  and  intelligent  as  in  the  days  I  have  just  de- 
scribed. That  foreign  operatives  can  be  raised  to  the  old  Lowell 
levels  has  been  abundantly  proved  at  Willimantic,  nor  would  it  be 
difficult  to  name  many  other  American  factories,  both  in  and  out  of 
New  England,  where  the  condition  of  labor  is  almost  as  high  as  in 
these  remarkable  thread-mills.  Nowhere,  however,  is  this  the  case, 
unless  employers  are  conscious  of  a  heavy  responsibility  for  the  mo- 
rality and  intelligence  of  their  people — a  responsibility  which  they 
were  compelled  to  keep  in  view  when  the  mill-hands  were  all  de- 
scendants of  New  England  and  Puritan  ancestors,  but  which  is  apt 
to  be  lost  sight  of  now  that  they  are  the  children  of  poor  and  igno- 
rant Irish  and  Canadian  parents. 

And  what  is  the  industrial  condition  of  Lowell  to-day?  "Last 
winter,"  says  the  lady  to  whom  I  have  already  referred,  "I  was  in- 
vited to  speak  to  a  company  of  the  Lowell  mill-girls,  and  tell  them 
something  about  my  early  life  as  a  member  of  their  guild.  I  was 
the  more  willing  to  do  this  as  I  was  anxious  to  ascertain  the  status 
of  the  successors  to  the  early  mill-girls.  About  two  hundred  of 
them  assemb'-  d  in  the  pleasant  parlor  of  the  People's  Club,  and  lis- 
tened attentively  to  my  story.    When  it  was  over,  a  few  of  them 


LOWELL,  PAST  AND  PRESENT. 


129 


gathered  around  and  asked  me  many  questions.  In  turn,  I  ques- 
tioned them  about  their  work,  their  hours  of  labor,  their  wages,  and 
their  means  of  improvement.  "When  I  urged  them  to  occupy  their 
spare  time  in  reading  and  study,  they  seemed  to  understand  the  ne- 
cessity of  it,  but  answered  sadly,  '  We  will  try ;  but  we  work  so  hard 
and  are  so  tired.'  It  was  plainly  to  be  seen  that  these  operatives 
did  not  go  to  their  labor  with  the  jubilant  feeling  that  the  old  mill- 
girls  used  to  have,  that  their  work  was  done  without  aim  and  pur- 
pose, that  they  t<  ok  no  interest  in  It  beyond  the  thought  that  it  was 
the  means  of  earning  their  daily  bread.  There  was  a  tired  hopeless- 
ness about  them,  such  as  was  never  seen  among  the  early  mill-girls." 

The  operatives  of  to-day  have  more  leisure  and  earn  more 
money  than  those  of  forty  years  ago,  but  they  do  not  know  how 
to  improve  the  one  or  use  the  other.  This  is  not  because  the  germs 
of  intellectual  life  were  sown  among  the  children  of  Puritan  fathers 
and  withheld  from  the  compatriots  of  Grattan  and  Moore,  Mira- 
beau  and  Racine,  but  rather  because  those  were  early  taught,  while 
these  have  never  heard  of,  the  dignity  of  labor.  Hence,  falling  into 
an  "inferior  class,"  a  thing,  happily,  unknown  in  old  Lowell,  the 
mill-girls  of  to-day  feel  none  of  the  aspirations  with  which  their 
predecessors  put  their  feet  on  the  first  rungs  of  the  ladder  of  learn- 
ing, aspirations  without  which  the  road  to  knowledge  is  thorny  in- 
deed. 

"  These  American-bom  children  of  foreign  parentage  are  under 
the  control  neither  of  their  Church  nor  their  parents,  and  they  con- 
sequently adopt  the  vices  and  follies  instead  of  the  good  habits  of 
our  people.  It  is  vital  to  the  interests  of  the  community  that  they 
should  be  brought  under  good  moral  influence,  that  they  should 
have  the  help  and  sympathy  of  their  employers,  live  in  better  homes 
and  breathe  a  better  social  atmosphere  than  is  now  to  be  found  in 
our  factory  towns.  They  need,  in  fact,  to  be  lifted  out  of  a  condi- 
tion of  mental  squalor  into  a  higher  state  of  thought  and  feeling. 

"Meanwhile,  manufacturing  corporations,  with  a  few  honorable 
exceptions,  no  longer  represent  a  protecting  care  for,  or  exercise  a 
parental  influence  over,  their  operatives.  They  have  become  soulless 
organizations,  whose  members  forget  that  they  are  responsible  for 
the  minds  and  bodies  as  well  as  the  wages  of  those  whose  labor  cre- 
ates th  Ar  wealth.  It  is  time  that  they  who  gather  riches  from  the 
factories  of  the  country  should  again  understand  that  they  do  not 
discharge  their  whole  duty  to  their  operatives  by  the  monthly  pay- 
ment of  wages,  but  they  are  also  responsible  for  the  barren  and 
hopeless  lives  of  their  operatives,  for  their  unlovely  surroundings, 
and  for  the  moral  and  physical  degradation  of  their  children. 
Would  it  not  even  be  wise  that  employers  should  seriously  con- 
sider whether  it  is  better  to  degrade  their  people  to  the  level  of  the 

6* 


180 


LOWELL,  PAST  AND  PRESENT. 


sftmo  class  in  fordgn  countries,  or  to  mix  a  little  conscience  with 
their  capital,  and  so  bring  the  factory  operative  of  to-day  back  into 
the  lost  Eden  of  the  past?"  So  far  one  who  is  herself  a  daughter  of 
the  Eden  that  Lowell  once  was,  speaking  of  the  Lowell  of  to-day. 
Let  us  take  a  turn  through  the  city  streets  and  ask  our  own  eyes 
whether  they  confirm  or  gainsay  her  testimony. 

Lowell,  a  city  of  fifty  thousand  inhabitants,  is  perhaps  more  beau- 
tifully situated  than  any  other  industrial  city  in  America.  It  lies 
upon  the  Merrimac  River,  among  hills  which  enclose  the  town  with 
a  spacious  natural  amphitheatre,  around  one  fourth  of  whose  cir- 
cumference the  broad,  sparkling  stream  makes  a  magnificent  sweep. 
Back  of  this  the  hills  rise  steeply  for  several  hundred  feet,  clothed 
with  dense  foliage,  and  crowned  with  crests  whence  one  looks  away 
to  the  blue  peaks  of  the  distant  Green  Mountains,  or  down  to  the 
great  cotton-mills  below.  These  skirt  the  right  bank  of  the  Merri- 
mac with  parallel  lines  of  bastion-like  buildings,  whose  regularity  is 
frequently  interrupted  by  the  foliage  of  shade  trees,  which  so  em- 
bower roofs,  steeples,  and  belfries  that  one  seems  to  be  viewing  a 
city  of  gardens  rather  than  a  great  industrial  town. 

The  falls  of  the  Merrimac,  from  which  the  motive  power  of  the 
mills  is  derived,  are  dammed  by  a  structure  only  a  little  less  gigantic 
than  that  which  controls  the  Connecticut  River  at  Holyoke,  and  over 
its  lip  a  broad  stream  of  sparkling  brown  water  pours  in  a  graceful 
cascade,  to  ripple  over  a  rocky  bed  below,  towards  the  ocean.  Water 
from  above  the  dam  is  led  to  the  various  mills  through  a  canal,  the 
space  between  which  and  the  river  has  been  laid  out  with  romantic 
walks,  threading  grassy  glades,  overshadowed  by  leafy  maples. 
The  suburbs  are  beautified  by  many  charming  houses,  and  as  these, 
for  the  most  part,  lie  upon  high  ground,  whence  the  mountain  views 
are  many  and  fine,  the  dwellings  of  Lowell  mill-owners  and  superin- 
tendents are  unusually  attractive. 

But  if  "Little  Canada,"  the  French-Canadian  quarter  of  the 
town,  be  an  example  of  operative  homes,  then  the  Eden  of  forty  years 
ago  has  indeed  departed.  Its  streets  are  narrow  and  unpaved  lanes  ; 
its  rickety  wooden  houses  elbow  one  another  closely,  and  have  no 
gardens,  scarcely  even  back-yards.  They  are  let  out  in  flats,  as  at 
Holyoke,  but  are  far  inferior  to  the  tenement-houses  of  that  city, 
which,  if  they  shelter  squalid  folk,  are  at  least  well  built  and  conven- 
ient. Within  these  wretched  dwellings,  whose  erection  ought  never 
to  have  been  sanctioned  by  the  authorities,  the  Canadians  crowd,  as 
they  do  in  Holyoke.  Peeps  into  interiors  disclose  dirty  rooms  and 
families  pigging  together  at  meals,  or  slatternly  women  and  unkempt 
men  leaning  from  the  window-sills.  The  uncleaned  streets  are  reso- 
nant with  dirty,  ragged,  and  bare-legged  children,  as  true  gutter-birds 
as  any  to  be  found  in  Europe.    The  picture  speaks  of  nothing  but . 


LOWELL,  PAST  AND  PRESENT. 


181 


barren,  hopeless  lives  tor  the  adults  and  certain  degradation  for  the 
children. 

The  Irish  portion  of  the  town  has  wider  streets  and  houses  some- 
what less  crowded  than  those  of  "Little  Canada," but  is  of  scarcely 
better,  although  different,  aspect.  Without  being  actually  squalid, 
it  has  many  of  the  repulsive  features  peculiar  to  quarters  inhabited 
by  ignorant  labor.  Slatternly  women,  of  advanced  and  middle  age, 
gossip  in  groups  around  the  doorways.  Young  girls,  tawdrily  fine 
in  dress,  saunter  along  the  sidewalks,  or  loll  idly  from  the  windows, 
their  hair  shining  with  oil,  their  necks  gaudy  v  ith  flaring  kerchiefs 
and  gilt  brooches,  saluting  passing  friends  and  acquaintances.  Knots 
of  men,  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  are  grouped  about  the  bars  of  the  fre- 
quent saloons,  whose  doors  here,  as  everywhere  else  throughout  New 
England,  all  exhibit  Irish  names.  No  signs  of  poverty  are  visible; 
on  the  contrary,  an  air  of  prosperous  ignorance,  satisfied  to  eat,  drink, 
and  idle  away  the  hours  not  given  to  work,  distinguish  the  Erin  of 
Lowell  from  its  more  squalid  Canada ;  but  one  hardly  knows  which 
of  the  two  quarters  will  prove  the  more  difllcult  field  for  cultivation 
by  the  social  reformer. 

The  city,  it  is  fair  to  say,  exhibits  other  and  more  favorable  views 
of  operative  life.  The  old  boarding-houses  remain,  and  many  of 
them  are  excellently  conducted.  Although  no  longer  centres  of  a. 
vivid  intellectual  life,  they  shelter  many  worthy  daughters  of  indus- 
try, who  only  want  a  helping  hand  to  lift  them  nearer  to  the  social 
levels  of  the  past.  But  these  girls  are  not  Canadians  or  Irish,  they 
are  the  remnant  of  native  labor  which  still  occupies  a  corner  of  every 
New  England  factory.  In  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  too,  there  are 
numerous  pretty  white  houses,  the  homes  of  toil,  where  typical 
American  families,  not  necessarily  of  native  birth,  are  growing  up 
amid  healthy  and  morally  wholesome  conditions,  and  enjoying  pub- 
lic advantages  as  great  as  those  of  Willimantic  itself.  For  it  must 
never  be  forgotten  that,  even  where  labor  in  America  seems  deepest 
in  the  mire,  there,  as  everywhere  else,  the  common  and  Sunday 
schools,  the  free  libra^-y,  and  the  church  are  always  ready  to  lend  a 
helping  hand  to  those  who  have  the  courage  to  help  themselves. 
These  agents  of  improvement  are  as  active  in  Lowell  to-day  as  they 
were  in  the  past,  and  it  will  not  be  because  they  have  bowed  the 
head  to  king  laissez-faire  if  American  labor  degrades  from  its  pres- 
ent condition  in  the  future.  The  problem  at  Lowell,  as  at  Holyoke, 
is  not  how  to  stimulate  the  energy  or  extend  the  influence  of  the 
state,  the  church,  and  the  school,  but  how  to  make  employers  their . 
earnest,  active,  and  sympathetic  allies. 

And  if,  leaving  Lowell,  I  were  to  carry  the  reader  with  me  to  Fall 
River,  the  Manchester  of  the  United  States,  where  matters  are,  per- 
haps, at  their  worst,  or  thence  into  a  hundred  other  mills  in  addition 


182 


LOWELL,  PAST  AND  PBESENT. 


lii 


to  those  we  have  already  visited,  the  same  question  would  arise  in 
every  one  of  them.  In  another  remote  valley  of  manufacturing  vil- 
lages we  should  see  labor  again,  as  at  Ansonia  and  Waterbury, 
scarcely  preserving  its  old,  unquestioned  equality  with  capital,  but 
intelligent,  self-respecting,  and  respected  "for  a'  that."  At  a  new 
Holyoke  we  should  find  it  down  in  the  very  dust,  ignorant  of  its  own 
dignity  and  careless  of  its  rights,  accepting  the  position  of  a  mere 
wage-earner,  without  a  protest,  and  a  life  of  aimless,  hopeless  dulness, 
because  it  has  never  been  taught  that  it  is  human.  A  second  North 
Adams  would  exhibit  it  in  arms  against  capital,  fighting  a  furious 
battle  over  the  division  of  profits,  both  sides  accepting  the  position 
of  antagonists  as  the  natural  one  between  hirer  and  hired,  both  em. 
ployed  in  laying  waste  the  field  of  their  common  industry.  We 
might  even  surprise  it,  as  at  Willimantic,  lion  and  lamb  sharing  an 
idyllic  home,  the  distinction  between  master  and  servant  marked, 
chiefly,  by  a  superiority  of  character  and  conduct  which  it  is  the  aim 
of  one  to  diflfuse,  of  the  other  to  emulate.  Or  another  community, 
such  as  we  visited  at  Mount  Lebanon,  might  receive  us,  whose  mem- 
bers enjoy,  in  common,  the  fruits  of  the  common  toil,  and  where,  but 
for  the  powers  and  passions  of  man,  labor  might  seem  to  have  reached 
the  haven  where  it  would  be.  Finally,  we  might  be  witnesses  to  at 
least  one  actual  deed  of  partnership  between  lender  and  laborer, 
which,  dividing  with  rough  justice  the  profits  of  industry  between 
all  the  parties  to  production,  has  made  the  prosperous  manufacturing 
village  of  Peaeedale,  in  Rhode  Island,  more  than  worthy  of  the  name 
it  bears. 

Every  case  I  have  cited,  or  might  cite,  would,  however,  only  em- 
phasize, each  in  its  own  way,  the  question  which  is  already  before 
us— How  is  America  going  to  treat  a  problem,  formerly  the  curse 
and  still  the  danger  of  Europe,  and  for  which  democratic  institutions 
have  confessedly  failed  to  furnish  the  solution,  once  confidently  but 
unfairly  expected  from  them  ?  Unlike  the  political  fabrics  of  Eu. 
rope,  the  American  Republic  is  founded  upon  the  sovereignty  of  the 
people,  and  it  will  prosper  or  perish,  according  as  the  mental  and 
moral  status  of  the  sovereign  people  is  high  or  low.  The  question 
whether  labor  in  America  will  in  future  sustain,  improve  upon,  or 
degrade  from  its  once  high  condition,  is  one  beside  which  every  other 
national  problem,  social,  religious,  or  political,  is  a  matter  of  trifling 
moment,  for  upon  this  depends  the  destiny  of  the  greatest  state  and 
the  life  of  the  most  beneficent  government  which  the  world  has  ever 
seen. 


i\^- 


f 


Chapter  XV. 

THE  FACTORY  SYSTEM. 

Before  we  can  come  to  a  conclusion  upon  the  grave  question 
which  has  issued  from  our  industrial  experiences,  another  problem 
must  be  discussed  and  disposed  of.  The  factory  system  is  scarcely 
more  than  a  hundred  years  old,  but  it  has  effected  greater  changes  in 
the  condition  of  the  people,  in  commerce,  in  legislation,  and  in  na- 
tional policy  than  any  other  influence  of  the  eighteenth  and  nine- 
teenth centuries.  Received  in  America,  as  we  have  already  seen, 
with  hesitation,  and  regarded  with  distrust  because  of  its  evil  repu- 
tation in  Europe,  most  people  would  probably  agree  that  if  labor  in 
the  States  has  degraded  in  recent  years  this  has  directly  resulted 
from  the  introduction  of  manufactures.  But  off-hand  judgments 
are  rarely  just,  and  there  are  many  things  to  be  considered  before  we 
can  decide  that  the  great  and  growing  factory  system  is  a  power  for 
evil,  be  it  in  Europe  or  America.  Meanwhile,  it  is  too  late  to  inquire 
whether  it  ought  or  ought  not  to  have  been  established,  for  estab- 
lished it  is,  and  upon  the  same  basis  as  modern  commerce,  or,  in  other 
words,  as  modem  civilized  life,  with  which  alone  it  can  perish. 

Although  it  now  embraces  all  the  varied  products  of  machinery, 
the  factory  system  found  its  first  application  to  textile  fabrics,  a  cir- 
cumstance which  makes  it  easy  to  compare  the  new  order  of  things 
with  the  domestic  industry  that  characterized  the  operative  life  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  If  there  was  something  idyllic  about  a  pict- 
ure of  the  old  English  weaver  working  at  his  loom,  with  his  family 
around  him  carding  and  spinning  wool  or  cotton  for  his  use,  that 
home  of  industry  was  very  different  in  fact  and  fiction.  Huddled 
together  in  a  hut,  whose  living  and  sleeping  accommodations  were 
curtailed,  by  the  tools  of  his  trade,  to  limits  which  left  little  room 
for  decency,  the  weaver's  family  lived  and  worked  without  comfort, 
convenience,  good  food,  or  good  air.  The  children  became  toilers 
from  their  earliest  youth  and  grew  up  quite  ignorant,  no  one  having 
yet  conceived  of  education,  except  as  a  luxury  of  the  rich.  Theft  of 
materials  and  drunkenness  made  almost  every  cottage  a  scene  of 
crime,  want,  and  disorder.  The  grossest  superstitions  took  the  place 
of  intelligence,  health  was  impossible  in  the  absence  of  cleanliness 
and  pure  air,  and  such  was  the  moral  atmosphere  of  labor,  that  if 


184 


TIIE  PACTOny  SYSTEM. 


11 


some  family,  with  more  virtue  than  common,  tried  to  conduct  them- 
selves so  as  to  save  their  self-respect,  they  were  abused  or  ostracized 
by  their  neighbors. 

It  was  under  this  system  that  there  arose  in  England  that  pauper 
class,  the  reproach  of  civilization,  which,  once  created,  continued  to 
grow  until  a  fourth  of  the  national  income  scarcely  sufficed  to  sup- 
port the  nation's  poor.  Against  the  spread  of  pauperism,  indeed, 
legislation  and  philanthropy  seemed  alike  powerless,  and  the  evil 
was  only,  at  last,  checked  by  the  rise  of  those  manufacturing  indus- 
tries which  followed  upon  the  inventions  of  Arkwright,  Hargreaves, 
and  Crompton,  and  the  enterprise  of  men  like  Wedgwood.  The  in- 
fluence of  the  newly  born  factory  system  alone  prevented  England 
from  being  overrun,  during  the  latter  half  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
by  the  most  ignorant  and  depraved  of  men,  and  it  was  only  in  the 
factory  districts  that  the  demoralizing  agency  of  pauperism  could  be 
effectually  resisted. 

It  may,  of  course,  be  urged  that  no  comparisons  between  domestic 
and  factory  labor  are  of  any  value,  except  in  cases  where  the  two 
systems  exist  side  by  side;  and  that  the  improvement  which  took 
place  in  the  condition  of  English  operatives,  after  the  introduction 
of  the  factory  system,  was  due  to  the  general  advance  of  civilization. 
But  the  two  systems  were  simultaneously  in  force  in  France  down 
to  a  very  late  period,  domestic  industry  being,  even  now,  the  rule  in 
the  country  around  Amiens,  while  the  factory  reigns  in  the  city 
itself.  There,  however,  the  rural  workers  have  a  very  bad  reputa- 
tion as  compared  with  that  of  the  town  operatives.  Their  homes 
are  worse,  and  are  worse  kept ;  beginning  work  at  no  regular  hour, 
they  idle  more  and  earn  more  precarious  wages  than  do  the  factory 
hands,  and  they  are  inveterate  drunkards. 

It  is  easy  to  bring  these  facts  to  the  test  of  figures.  French  fac- 
tories are  constantly  increasing  in  number,  and  operatives  are  being, 
as  constantly,  drawn  into  them  and  away  from  the  old  system. 
Now,  if  the  mill  has  an  evil  effect  on  morals,  the  percentage  of  crime 
in  a  locality  where  a  change  from  the  domestic  to  the  factory  system 
is  in  progress  should  increase  as  more  people  come  under  its  influ- 
ence. But  the  contrary  is  known  to  have  taken  place  in  the  district 
already  alluded  to,  where,  between  1855  and  1859,  the  criminal  list 
was  reduced  by  twenty-five  per  cent, ,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
the  factory  population  was,  at  that  time,  rapidly  increasing  at  the 
expense  of  the  domestic  workers. 

Economically  speaking,  it  goes  without  saying  that  the  new  sys- 
tem is  infinitely  superior  to  the  old  one,  while  the  previously  unheard- 
of  power  and  wealth  that  has  sprung  from  it  are  not>the  sole  prop- 
erty of  any  class  or  body  of  men,  but  are  much  more  fairly  shared 
than  they  were  under  the  domestic  system.    Even  the  visionaries 


THE  FACTORY  SYSTEM. 


185 


who  suppose  that  the  craftsman  gains  in  character  and  originality  by 
isolation  would  hesitate  to  exchange  the  well-ordered  factory  of  to- 
day for  the  squalid  cottage  industries  and  sin-breeding  small  shops 
of  the  last  century. 

Bad  as  the  domestic  system  was,  however,  that  which  followed  it 
seemed,  at  first,  scarcely  better  than  its  predecessor.  At  the  moment 
when  the  earliest  cotton-mills  arose  in  England,  or  about  the  middle 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  country,  as  we  have  seen,  was  overrun 
with  paupers.  The  action  of  the  poor  law,  by  penning  the  people 
into  narrow  districts,  increased  laziness  and  immorality  in  every  par- 
ish union  Where  the  number  of  operatives  was  greater  than  the  local 
demand  for  their  labor.  Agriculture  took  advantage  of  this  state  of 
things  to  reduce  wages,  as  nearly  as  possible,  to  starvation  level, 
while  unemployed  labor  was  driven  into  the  workhouses.  Mean- 
while, there  was  scarcely  a  law  upon  the  statute-books  of  England 
regulating  the  relations  between  master  and  servant,  and  the  few 
which  did  exist  were  of  a  criminal  character,  enacting  punishments 
for  the  most  trifling  misdeeds  of  the  men,  while  the  master  retained 
the  same  arbitrary  powers  over  labor  as  were  bequeathed  to  him  by 
feudalism.  English  cottages  were,  at  this  time,  choked  with  the  de- 
graded sons  and  daughters  of  toil,  children  of  the  domestic  system 
of  industry,  who,  if  they  overflowed  into  the  factory,  were  certainly 
better  off  there  than  in  the  workhouse. 

Hence  the  new  mills  were,  in  the  first  instance,  recruited  entirely 
from  a  foul  source,  and  great  towns  grew  up,  having  populations 
brutal  to  a  degree  which  it  is  hard  to  conceive.  No  sort  of  effort 
was  made  to  improve  the  moral  or  mental  condition  of  these  people, 
no  new  parishes  were  created,  no  new  churches  were  built,  and  of 
schools  there  were  none,  save  the  grammar-schools  of  Edward  and 
Elizabeth.  "There  was  no  effective  police,  and,  in  great  outbreaks, 
the  mobs  of  London  and  Birmingham  burned  houses,  threw  open  the 
prisons,  and  pillaged  at  their  will.  The  criminal  class  gathered  bold- 
ness and  numbers  in  the  face  of  ruthless  laws,  which  only  testified  to 
the  terror  of  society — laws  which  strung  up  twenty  young  thieves  of 
a  morning  in  front  of  Newgate;  while  the  introduction  of  gin  gave 
a  new  impetus  to  drunkenness.  In  the  streets  of  London  gin  shops 
invited  every  passer-by  to  get  drunk  for  a  penny,  or  dead  drunk  for 
twopence."* 

Such  were  the  disorders  that  made  America  hesitate  before  the 
introduction  of  a  system  which  had,  apparently,  given  them  birth. 
They,  however,  were  no  true  children  of  the  mill,  but  of  the  vicious 
system  of  industry,  and  its  accompanying  pauperism,  which  had  pre- 
ceded it.    With  the  first  and  chief  parent  of  these  evils,  legislation, 


*  A  Short  History  of  the  Englieh  People  "  (Oreen). 


186 


THE  FACTORT  BT8TEM. 


if  it  had  so  desired,  could  do  nothing,  so  long  as  it  was  intrenched  in 
the  Englishman's  castle,  his  home  ;  while,  with  the  second,  puhlic 
moneys  and  private  charity  struggled  bravely  but  in  vain. 

But  labor  of  this  degraded  and  pauperized  kind  could  not  long  be 
massed  together  without  the  abominations  which  hid  themselves  in 
a  thousand  obscure  cottages  being  brought  into  the  light  of  day. 
At  first,  indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  capital  might  use  the  ignorance  and 
disability  of  labor  entirely  for  its  own  advantage.  Succeeding  to  a 
feudal  authority  which  the  law  still  sanctioned,  masters  exploited 
their  operatives  in  an  extreme  and  unscrupulous  manner,  and  a  gen- 
eral crowding  downwards  of  the  less  wealthy  by  the  wealthiest 
seemed,  for  a  time,  imminent.  But  this  process,  which  had  all  along 
been  in  unnoticed  operation  under  the  domestic  system,  could  not 
fail  to  attract  the  public  attention  when  taking  place  under  more 
conspicuous  conditions.  Thus,  not  only  did  the  factory  system  first 
acquaint  the  country  with  the  degraded  and  morally  corrupt  condi- 
tion of  its  working  population,  but  it  also  called  attention  to  the  ar- 
bitrary character  of  law  and  custom  in  their  relations  to  labor,  and, 
presently,  demanded  improvement  and  reform.  Laissez-faire,  who 
was  absolute  king  at  this  time,  made  a  determined  cfiFort  to  preserve 
his  vested  jight  to  do  wrong  if  he  were  so  minded,  but  two  important 
events  made  common  cause  with  the  operatives  and  decided  the 
struggle  against  him. 

The  doctrines  of  Adam  Smith,  published  almost  simultaneously 
with  the  rise  of  the  factory  system,  had  already  furnished  the  coun- 
try with  a  theory  of  labor  and  commerce  totally  new  to  the  eighteenth 
century.  Until  the  publication  of  the  Oxford  student's  essay,  in  1776, 
tlie  trading  classes  universally  considered  that  wealth  meant  gold 
and  silver,  and  that  commerce  was  best  furthered  by  jealous  monop- 
olies. But  the  great  author  of  the  "  Wealth  of  Nations  "  contended 
that  labor  was  the  one  and  only  source  of  wealth,  and  that  if  this  is 
to  be  most  productive,  it  must  work  under  conditions  of  absolute 
freedom.  Pitt  was  the  first  English  statesman  who,  thanks  to  his 
study  of  Adam  Smith,  realized  the  part  that  industry  was  to  play  in 
promoting  the  welfare  of  the  world,  and  the  public  mind  of  his  time 
soon  became  penetrated  with  the  same  pregnant  idea.  Thus  labor, 
the  mere  drudge  of  the  dome^/uc  system  and  the  slave  of  feudal  times, 
began  to  occupy  a  new  position  after  the  great  economiist  had  taught 
men  to  regard  it  as  the  supreme  source  of  wealth. 

Previously  to  this,  however,  and  at  the  very  moment  that  the  state 
of  the  new  factory  towns  was  at  its  worst,  a  knot  of  Oxford  students, 
revolting  against  the  religious  paralysis  of  the  time,  originated  the 
great  Methodist  revival,  which  changed  the  whole  tone  and  temper 
of  the  eighteenth  century  before  it  had  much  more  than  half  run  out. 
The  passionate  impulse  of  human  sympathy  to  which  the  preaching 


TOE  FACTOKT  SYSTEM. 


187 


of  Whitefleld  and  Wesley  gave  rise  wns  propagated  with  amazing 
force  and  rapidity  tliroiigliout  tlie  Icngtli  and  breadth  of  England. 
Under  its  influence  Wilberforcc  and  Clarkson  began  their  crusade 
against  the  iniquities  of  the  slave  trade,  then  the  sheet-anchor  of 
Liverpool  merchants,  and,  supported  by  it,  Howard  attacked  the 
abominations  of  the  prison  system.  Labor,  itself  profoundly  moved 
by  the  revival  of  religion,  was  not  long  without  sympathizers  in  its 
degraded  lot,  who  claimed  the  right  of  society  to  interfere,  even  in 
the  private  relations  of  master  and  man,  if  these  were  not  based  upon 
justice. 

The  first  factory  act,  introduced  by  Peel,  was,  indeed,  of  little  value 
to  the  operative,  but  it  was  important  as  an  assertion  of  the  right 
in  question,  and  has  been  followed,  especially  during  the  last  fifty 
years,  by  a  great  deal  of  wholesome  restrictive  legislation.  Thus  the 
right  of  a  master  to  make  a  free  contract  with  women  and  children 
has  been  abolished.  Women  may  no  longer  overwork  themselves, 
or  children  reroala  absolutely  without  education.  The  factory 
has  been  opened  to  public  scrutiny,  and  subjected  to  penalties  for 
being  kept  either  in  a  dangerous  or  unwholesome  state,  while  em- 
ployers have  been  made  liable  for  all  preventable  accidents  to  life 
and  limb.  This  is  not  the  place  to  speak  of  similar  restrictions  im- 
posed upon  the  agricultural,  mining,  and  shipping  industries  of 
the  country;  it  suffices  for  my  purposes  to  show  that  the  factory  is 
no  longer  the  castle  of  its  lord,  but  a  quasi-public  institution,  largely 
under  the  control  of  public  opinion. 

It  is  most  unfortunate  for  the  reputation  of  the  factory  system 
that  its  origin  should  have  been  so  impure,  for  this,  together  with 
the  still  low  condition  of  labor,  blinds  many  people  to  the  fact  that 
factory  populations  are,  really,  much  more  moral,  as  they  are  ad- 
mittedly more  intelligent,  than  other  classes  of  labor.  The  French 
statistics  already  quoted  are  very  much  to  the  point  in  this  regard, 
while  others  from  the  same  source  could  be  adduced  to  show  that  in 
certain  textile  districts  of  France  the  op*,  .atives  contribute  only  five 
per  cent,  to  the  criminal  lists.  Similarly,  Manchester,  whose  factory 
hands  are  usually,  but  unfairly,  credited  with  all  the  crime  of  a  city 
which  is  as  much  a  trading  as  a  manufacturing  centre,  is  far  less 
stained  by  the  mill  than  is  generally  supposed.  One  of  its  recent 
penitentiary  reports,  for  example,  testifies  that  four  times  as  many 
prostitutes  are  furnished  to  the  streets  from  the  class  of  domestic 
servants  than  by  mill-girls,  and  a  careful  study  of  any  criminal 
statistics  will  prove  that  jails  generally  are  filled  from  other  sources 
than  the  factory. 

The  last,  indeed,  lends  itself,  far  better  than  any  other  form  of 
industrial  life,  to  improving  and  civilizing  agencies.  For  a  mill, 
after  all,  is  but  an  embodiment  of  the  principle  of  association,  the 


188 


THE  FACTORY  SYSTEM. 


only  possible  basis  of  civilization,  and  the  source  of  every  improve- 
ment in  the  condition  of  man.  Association,  however,  cannot  unite 
even  two  human  beings  witliout  giving  birth  to  division  of  labor; 
for,  of  two  savages,  for  example,  seeking  a  common  subsistence,  it 
will  be  found  more  convenient  if  one  does  this  and  the  other  that. 
The  family,  the  tribe,  and  the  nation  are  ail,  obviously,  children  of 
association,  but  so  are  commerce,  the  arts,  science,  literature,  philoso- 
phy, nay,  even  the  Christian  virtues  themselves,  which  were  begot- 
ten of  human  intercourse  before  they  were  taught  by  authority. 

The  mill,  indeed,  is  simply  an  establishment  wherein  association 
turns  its  attention  to  production,  and  seeks  to  supply  given  wants 
with  the  least  possible  expenditure  of  energy.  Precisely  the  same 
principle  binds  men  together  for  the  performance  of  every  human 
task,  and  even  if  the  Master's  words,  "Bear  ye  one  another's  bur- 
dens," are  riglitly  read,  for  works  of  the  spirit  as  well  as  of  the  flesh. 
Thus,  the  factory  system  is  founded  upon  the  same  rock  as  the 
edifice  of  human  life  itself,  and  if,  like  human  life,  it  is  full  of  short- 
comings, that  is  the  fault,  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  of  conduct. 
Its  organization  is  as  capable  of  that  kind  of  improvement  so  happily 
termed  "growth  in  grace  "  as  the  human  heart  itself,  for  where  mc 
are  most  closely  associated,  there,  if  any  one  will  teach,  it  is  ea 
iest  to  learn,  because  most  possible  to  practise,  the  lessons  of  the 
Mount. 

We  sometimes  hear  "the  masses"  and  "dense  populations"  spo- 
ken of  in  terms  which  imply  that  certain  evils  of  society  do  actually 
arise  from  the  mere  aggregation  of  a  number  of  human  beings,  or, 
in  other  words,  that  there  is  a  point  where  the  admitted  blessings  of 
association  become  curses.  But  great  operative  cities  are  not  wicked 
because  men  are  overcrowded;  they  are  overcrowded  because  men 
are  wicked;  and  the  factory  system  which  brings  these  numbers  of 
people  together  is  not  only  blameless  of  such  evils  as  arise  among 
them,  but,  where  the  social  reformer  is  active,  it  makes  the  work  of 
improving  and  civilizing  easy.  What  could  the  "  captain  of  indus- 
try "  who  leads  the  forces  of  labor  at  Willimantic  do  for  the  im- 
provement of  his  people  but  for  the  factory  ?  What  does  he  not  do 
with  its  assistance  ?  Think  of  the  effectiveness  which  this  lends  to 
his  libraries  and  schools ;  of  the  economies  it  gives  birth  to  in  his 
stores;  of  the  number  of  healthy  and  happy  homes  it  has  enabled 
him  to  create.  Consider  the  amount  of  mental  friction  which  accom- 
panies the  congregation  of  girls  in  the  class-room  and  of  men  in  the 
reading-room,  and  picture  the  lives  which  his  sixteen  hundred 
workers,  representing  a  much  larger  community  when  the  families  are 
added  to  the  hands,  would  have  led  under  the  domestic  system  of 
industry.  How  far  could  Colonel  Barrows'  light  have  shone  over  a 
turbid  sea  of  labor,  such  as  that  of  the  eighteenth  century  ?    How 


THE  FACTORY  SYSTEM. 


18» 


many  human  ships,  freighted  \rith  souls,  may  it  not  have  saved  from 
wreck  and  guided  into  a  safe  harbor  at  Willlmantic? 

Every  factory  in  Europe  or  America  could  be  converted  into  a 
humanizing  agency,  such  as  Willlmantic  is,  and  it  would  pay  owners, 
to  say  nothing  of  their  hands,  for  them  all  to  become  so.  Money- 
mills  of  to-day  might  all  be  "mills  of  God"  to-morrow,  producing 
intelligence  and  morality,  with  the  least  possible  expenditure  of 
civilizing  effort,  because  of  the  assistance  that  association  lends, 
whether  to  the  making  of  morality  or  of  cotton  goods.  In  England 
public  opinion  has  made  the  factory  system  the  happy  father  of  popu- 
lar education,  which  could  not  help  following  upon  the  compulsory 
schooling  of  operative  children.  The  same  beneficent  agent  has 
stripped  the  workshop  of  all  oppressive,  unwholesome,  and  dangerous 
features,  and  future  legislation  may  be  trusted  to  respect  the  future 
wants  of  labor  which  respects  itself.  In  spite  of  a  bad  beginning  and 
early  maladministration ;  in  spite  of  a  low  condition  of  labor  and 
lower  conceptions  of  its  claims,  the  factory  system  has  benefited  the 
English  operative  as  no  other  form  of  industry  has  done.  Only  one 
thing  is  wanting  to  make  it  take  rank,  iiot  as  the  parent  of  untold 
evils,  but  as  one  of  the  most  powerful  civil'zing  agencies  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  That  want  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  the  world, 
and  one  of  the  hardest  to  fill.  It  is  Men.  "  Captains  of  industry, 
the  true  fighters,  henceforth  recognizable  as  the  only  true  ones; 
fighters  against  chaos  and  the  devil,  leaders  of  mankind  in  this,  the 
great  and  alone  true  and  universal  warfare."  * 

Something  must  be  said  in  answer  to  those  who  urge  that  the 
subdivision  of  tasks  is  accompanied  by  an  abasement  of  intelligence, 
and  who  accuse  the  factory  of  destroying  originality  and  force  in 
the  craftsman.  This  abasement  is  presumed,  not  proven.  To  es- 
tablish it,  one  must  show  that  the  hand  weaver,  who  himself  throws 
the  shuttle  and  rocks  the  loom,  is  superior  to  the  machine  weaver, 
who  merely  assists,  without  producing  the  double  movement.  That 
Hodge,  sowing  seed  broadcast,  and  swinging  the  scythe  or  flail,  is  a 
more  intelligent  being  than  Hodge,  tending  the  drilling-machine, 
driving  the  mower,  and  feeding  the  steam  thrasher.  Men  who  know 
the  facts  are  of  quite  the  opposite  opinion.  They  who  have  co- 
operated in  the  displacement  of  manual  by  mechanical  power,  in 
any  department  of  industry,  are  painfully  aware  to  what  an  extent 
all  such  eflforts  are  handicapped  by  want  of  intelligence  in  the  labor 
at  command.  The  object  of  machinery  is  to  ease  human  muscles, 
not  to  spare  human  brains,  from  which,  indeed,  it  asks  severer  ser- 
vice in  return  for  the  benefits  conferred  on  the  body.  Visionaries 
who  contend  that  the  most  imperfect  machines,  those,  that  is  to  say. 


■  Curlyle. 


140 


THE  FACTORY  SYSTEM. 


which  demand  the  greatest  muscular  efforts,  are  they  which  most 
sharpen  the  intellectual  faculties  of  the  laborer,  may  well  be  left 
alone  with  their  own  logical  petard. 

So  far  as  unskilled  labor  is  concerned,  the  factory  is,  in  truth,  an 
elementary  school,  open  to  the  lowest  grade  of  operatives,  readj'^ 
with  promotion  into  successively  higher  classes  for  all  moderate 
merits  and  capacities,  and  offering  valuable  prizes  to  exceptional 
intelligence  whenever  this  is  accompanied  by  the  humbler  moral 
virtues.  But  for  his  own  schoolboy  expe-iences,  the  casual  visitor 
of  a  school  could  not  realize  the  progressive  character  of  this  institu- 
tion. He  sees  boys  reading  here,  writing  there,  and  ciphering  else- 
where, and  if  he  returned  in  a  year,  or  in  ten  years,  he  would  find 
the  same  three  monotonous  R's  in  process  of  absorption.  Nothing 
would  indicate  that  many  pupils  had  passed  steadily  up  through 
all  the  classes,  or  that  some  had  left  the  school  for  the  university. 
Only  the  schoolmaster  and  the  scholars  could  know  what  a  com- 
plicated series  of  changes,  dependent  upon  growth,  capacity,  and 
character,  had  taken  place  in  the  meantime.  Similarly,  the  average 
mill  visitor,  having  no  industrial  experience,  cannot  possibly  realize 
that  progression  is  taking  place  where  this  is  not  apparent  to  the  eye. 
He  sees  operatives  engaged  in  various  monotonous  tasks,  as  he  might 
observe  schoolboys  struggling  with  "pothooks  and  hangers,"  but, 
while  he  knows  that  the  scholars  wil!  one  day  write,  he  pictures  the 
factory  hand  as  bound  to  the  same  spoke  of  the  wheel  of  toil  for  life. 
Mill-owners  and  mill-hands,  however,  like  the  schoolmaster  and  his 
pupils,  know  that  the  factory  is  no  home  of  stagnation.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  a  little  world,  where,  even  more  easily  than  in  the 
great  world,  industry  and  intelligence  make  their  own  way  to  the 
front,  and  secure  their  reward.  If  the  idle  and  incompetent  con- 
tinue to  gird  and  grind  at  the  same  tasks,  so  do  the  backward  boys 
at  school,  and  "  duffers  "  everywhere,  but  that  is  not  the  fault  either 
of  the  factory  or  the  school  system. 

So  much  for  the  influence  of  the  factory  upon  what  is  called  un- 
skilled labor;  let  us  now  see  how  the  matter  stands  with  the  "  crafts- 
man," that  somewhat  fanciful  being,  about  the  loss  of  whose  force 
and  originality  some  people  are  so  anxious.  Nowadays  we  call  the 
craftsman  a  mechanic;  a  presumably  past-master  in  one  of  the  me- 
chanical arts,  such  as  carpentering  or  mnsonry,  moulding  or  fitting. 
The  fitter,  or  "engineer,"  as  Americans  always  term  him,  stands 
confessedly  at  the  head  of  all  modern  operatives,  and  there  is  no  other 
craftsman  who  has  been  so  profoundly  influenced  by  the  factory 
system.  Carpenters,  bricklayers,  masons,  and  many  other"  high-class 
artisans  have  remained,  so  to  speak,  outside  the  mill,  while  the  en- 
gineer has  become  its  very  soul.  Let  us  inquire,  then,  what  the 
factory  system  has  done  for  this,  the  most  highly  factorified,  highly 
endowed,  and  highly  paid  craftsman  of  the  present  day? 


THE  FACTOBT  BTSTBM. 


141 


'  The  question  answers  itself.  The  chief  of  the  opfrative  class  is 
himself  the  son  of  the  factory  system,  for  this,  if  the  elementary 
school  of  unskilled  labor,  is  the  Alma  Mat^r  of  the  nineteenth-cen- 
tury artisan.  Gathering  its  students,  whether  from,the  mill  itself,  or 
the  industrial  world  outside  it,  and  developing  their  natural  abilities 
with  extraordinary  success,  in  spite  of  deficient  education  and  fool- 
ish trade-society  rules,  the  factory  has  given  birth  to  an  army  of 
mechanics — call  them  craftsmen  if  you  will —far  more  highly  skilled 
than  any  of  their  predecessors. 

The  rare  Brindleys  and  Telfords,  who  led  the  way  to  conquest 
over  nature  in  the  last  centurj',  were  captains  of  industry  without 
a  disciplined  army  at  their  backs;  generals  whose  plans,  modest 
as  we  think  them,  were  scarcely  possible  of  accomplishment,  because 
the  craftsman  was,  as  yet,  little  better  than  a  laborer.  If  England 
now  talks  of  spanning  the  Forth  and  tunnelling  the  Channel;  if 
America  determines  to  throw  yet  another  three  thousand  miles  of 
rails  across  mountain  ranges  and  deserts;  if  France  prepares  to  join 
the  Atlantic  with  the  Pacific,  not  only  are  there  able  leaders  at  hand 
for  all  these  enterprises,  but  they  march  to  an  assured  success  be- 
cause mechanics,  the  soldiers  of  civilization,  are  an  army  of  veterans 
now,  as  they  were  a  handful  of  raw  recruits  in  Brindley  and  Tel- 
ford's time. 

This  is  the  direct  result  of  the  factory  system,  to  which,  indeed, 
we  owe  our  great  mechanicians  as  well  as  the  men  who  follow  them. 
Machinery  is  only  embodied  thought,  and  from  among  the  many 
who  execute  arise  the  few  who  scheme.  Such  a  one  is  the  inventor 
whom,  at  the  very  outset  of  our  journey,  I  typified  under  the  name  of 
the  "  Connecticut  man."  Him,  if  I  may  venture  to  quote  myself,  I 
described  as  having  his  home  in  the  factory,  and  living  surrounded 
by  the  most  refined  examples  of  modern  machinery.  "Here  he 
observes,  alters,  amends,  and  schemes.  The  pulsating  and  quasi-liv- 
ing beings  about  him  are  his  children,  whom  he  loves,  and  his  com- 
panions, who  stimulate  him  to  further  productive  efforts.  The 
thousand  and  one  wants  of  the  world  offer  him  a  boundless  field 
for  his  creative  powers,  and,  silently  brooding,  he  brings  forth,  now 
and  again,  another  wonderful  automaton,  as  a  poet  produces  a  verse 
or  a  musician  a  melody." 

Abasement  of  the  workman,  indeed  !  Only  the  mentally  short- 
sighted, or  blind,  could  fail  to  see  that  there  are  "embodied 
thoughts"  in  every  cotton -mill,  pin -factory,  and  CiOck-shop  we 
have  seen,  to  say  nothing  of  the  greatest  examples  of  modern  me- 
chanical genius,  which  bear  the  same  relation  to  the  craftsman's  work 
of  earlier  centuries  as  man's  reasoned  conclusions  do  to  the  chatter 
of  a  child.    All  these  are  the  offspring  of  the  factory  system. 

At  length  we  may  ask,  with  some  hope  of  guidance  to  a  trust- 


1'^ 


THE  FACTOnV  STSTEM. 


worthy  ianswer— What  will  be  the  future  of  labor  in  America?  That 
it  has  very  generally  lallcn  from  the  high  estate  it  occupied  when 
the  factories  of  New  England  were  filled  with  the  children  of  equal- 
ity and  enlightenment  no  reader  of  this  volume  can  doubt,  and  no 
candid  American  will  deny.  It  has  been  conclusively  shown  that 
the  introduction  of  manufactures  is  not  responsible  for  the  present 
state  of  things,  which  is,  indeed,  directly  traceable  to  the  displace- 
ment of  native  American  help  from  the  mills  by  the  introduction  of 
foreign  operatives.  Thus,  the  labor  question  of  to-day  in  New  Eng- 
land is  of  exactly  the  same  character  as  that  which  confronted  Old 
England  at  the  time  when  the  change  from  the  domestic  to  the 
factory  system  of  industry  took  place.  American  mill-owners, 
however,  have  not  to  do  battle  with  the  crime  and  brutality  of  that 
day,  but  only  to  conquer  the  illiteracy  and  political  apathy  of  alien 
labor.  We  ourselves  are  still  challenged  by  similar  but  native 
foes,  but,  low  as  our  labor  conditions  remain,  they  were  once  infinite- 
ly worse.  Fifty  years  of  factory  legislation  and  twenty  years  of  pop- 
ular education  have  accomplished  considerable  results  in  England, 
where,  unhappily,  few  sympathize  with  the  claims  of  toil,  scarcely 
any  desire  to  give  it  an  honorable  position,  and  only  once  in  half  a 
century  an  Owen  or  a  Salt  affirms  what  labor  administration  should 
be,  and  shows  what  the  factory  might  become. 

Matters  are  different  in  New  England.  The  legislature  busies 
itself  actively  with  the  concerns  of  labor;  Massachusetts,  the  chief 
manufacturing  state,  maintaining  a  special  bureau,  which  keeps 
every  question  bearing  upon  the  welfare  of  the  operative  well  before 
the  public,  makes  itself  a  terror  to  evil-doers,  whether  masters  or 
men,  and  plentifully  supplies  the  social  reformer  with  pregnant  and 
authentic  facts,  gathered  with  infinite  pains,  to  form  the  basis  of 
law-making.  As  for  the  New-Englanders  themselves,  I  have  writ- 
ten to  no  purpose  if  my  readers  do  not  realize  that  nowhere  in  the 
world  does  there  exist  a  more  enlightened  people,  greater  lovers  of 
freedom,  greater  friends  to  education,  greater  honorers  of  industry. 
These  all  desire  to  bring  the  foreign  laborer  under  the  influence  of 
the  public  institutions  of  the  country,  political,  religious,  and  educa- 
tional; to  "  make  Americans,"  in  short,  of  Irish,  Canadians,  Teutons, 
and  Scandinavians  alike. 

And  the  "Captains  of  industry,"  upon  whom,  more  than  upon 
state,  school,  church,  or  people,  depends  the  future  status  of  their 
foreign  help — what  are  they  doing?  Some,  as  we  know,  have  al- 
ready heard  the  call,  "  Arise,  save  thyself,  be  one  of  those  that  save 
thy  country."  Willimantic  does  not  stand  alone.  The  Cranes  at 
Dalton,  the  Cheneys  at  South  Manchester,  Mr.  Lock  at  Waterbury, 
the  Fairbanks  at  St.  Johnsbury,  Mr.  Hazard  at  Peacedale,  and  Mr. 
Pullman  at  Lake  Calumet— these  have  all  followed  the  "Qodlike 


THE  FACTORY  STSTElf. 


143 


stirrug  "  within  them,  and  made  their  factories  worthy  of  the  self- 
respecting  labor  which  they  have  created.  If  I  do  not  name  many 
other  similar  establishments,  that  is  only  for  want  of  personal  ac- 
quaintance with  examples  of  a  movement  that  is  spreading  rapidly 
in  the  States,  and  outstripping,  wherever  it  occurs,  the  combined 
work  of  the  pulpit  and  the  school  in  the  service  of  humanity. 

And  this  movement  Avill  gain  force  as  it  goes.  Outside  the  simply 
luxurious  classes,  more  conspicuous  in  New  York  than  elsewhere,  a 
true  idea  of  the  function  of  wealth  has  arisen  in  America,  where  it 
must  be  remembered  that  there  were  practically  no  rich  men  pre- 
viously to  the  war.  In  New  England,  particularly,  the  responsibil- 
ities of  the  rich  are  being  constantly  insisted  upon,  and  as  con- 
stantly acknowledged  in  a  variety  of  ways,  of  which  the  model 
factory  is  one  and  the  gift  of  free  libraries  to  cities  and  towns 
another.  New  England,  the  heart  of  America,  conceives  that  man 
the  richest  who,  having  perfected  his  own  life  as  far  as  in  him  lies, 
exercises  the  widest  influence  for  good,  whether  by  his  character 
or  his  money,  over  the  lives  of  others,  and  that  nation  the  richest 
which  contains  the  greatest  number  of  noble  and  happy  human  be- 
ings. To  the  action  of  this  belief,  which,  in  spite  of  dollar-worship, 
moulds,  as  I  believe,  the  conduct  of  an  increasing  number  of  lives 
in  New  England,  we  may,  I  think  hopefully,  kave  the  future  of 
American  labor,  dark,  by  comparison  with  earlier  conditions,  as  its 
present  seems. 


\ 

!    1 


!! 


Chapter  XVI- 

,.;U»B.  WAOES,  AHD  THE  TABIFJ-  ^  ^ 

™,«.l.  time  in  tbe  workshops  ol  ^™^  "^ojci  has,  however,  been 

„„^  of  America  proteeUon.  J^^Xctive  system.    The  t^^ 

of  Tomfort,  due  to  the  dignity  ^^d  seU  W  ^     ^^^^.      eompeti  ion 
Tn  return,  they  ask  to  be  P^^tectea  iro  interests,  in 

of  nianuf^cturing  md^^^^^^  ^^^^,,, 


LABOR,  WAGES,  AKD  THE  TARIFF. 


145 


jnding 

r,  been 
jrica  is 
ither  to 
lient  to 

both  by 
a  makes 

>ay  liig^ 
order  to 
es  to  sat- 
ke  -wages 
I  liigb  by 
jr  prices, 
ounds  tVie 
•rs  asking 
cers  for  a 

he  corner- 
res  that  bis 
be  farmer, 
,er  of  well- 
ng  tlie  arti- 
aufacturers 
keep  wages 
ed  standard 
erican  arti 
ompetition, 
interests,  in 
■ne  the  bome 
,y  tbe  power 

es  are  deter- 
:otection,  but 


by  free  trade.  Out  of  a  total  population  of  fifty  millions,  there  are 
sevent  jen  and  a  balf  millions  of  workers  in  the  United  States,  the 
remainder  being  dependents.  Nearly  eight  millions  of  the  workers 
are  engaged  in  agriculture,  and  less  than  three  millions  in  manufac- 
turing industries,  while  of  the  total  produce  raised  by  the  former 
class  two  thirds  is  consumed  in  the  country,  and  the  remaining 
third,  representing  almost  the  whole  foreign  trade  of  the  States,  is 
exported.  The  prices  which  these  surplus  exports  realize  are  clearly 
determined  in  the  markets  where  they  are  sold,  of  which  Liverpool 
is  the  chief,  and  they  will  be  high  or  low  according  as  the  harvests 
of  the  world  are  good  or  bad.  Similarly,  the  wages  which  can  be 
paid  to  American  labor  engaged  in  the  production  of  food-stuffs 
must  depend  on  the  amount  of  money  obtained  in  exchange  for 
them,  and  as  the  great  majority  of  workers  are  so  engaged,  their 
rate  of  wages  will  regulate  those  in  every  other  branch  of  business. 
Wages,  like  water,  seek  a  level,  and  labor  will  quit  the  field  for  the 
workshop,  or  the  workshop  for  the  field,  as  this  or  that  pays  best. 
Thus  agriculture  is  the  paymaster  whom  American  manufacturers 
must  outbid,  and  agricultural  wages  are  determined  in  the  free-trade 
markets  of  the  world. 

A  glance  at  the  condition  of  industry  in  America  vividly  illus- 
trates this  conclusion.  A  population,  still  very  sparse,  is,  for  the 
most  part,  engaged  in  gathering  where  it  has  not  sown.  Any  man 
with  a  few  dollars  and  a  strong  pair  of  arms  can  win  far  greater  re- 
wards from  the  cheap  and  fertile  soil  of  the  States  than  he  could 
possibly  obtain  by  the  same  amount  of  effort  in  Europe.  His  wages 
are  high  because  the  grade  of  comfort  to  be  obtained  from  the  land 
by  a  little  labor  is  high,  and  the  artisan's  wages  must  follow  suit  if 
the  immigrant  is  to  be  tempted  from  the  field  into  the  workshop. 
But  the  politicians  would  have  us  believe  that  American  labor  owes 
its  prosperity  to  taxation;  in  other  words,  that  the  immigrant  comes 
seeking  to  enjoy,  not  the  rich  prizes  with  which  the  untouched 
earth  rewards  his  toil,  but  the  blessings  that  flow  from  a  prohibitive 
tariff  which  adds  an  average  forty-three  per  cent,  to  the  cost  of  ev- 
ery human  requirement  except  food. 

Turning  from  so  transparent  a  sophism,  let  us  now  look  at  the 
notion  that  high  wages  make  protective  taxes  necessary  to  the  pros- 
perity of  all,  and  to  the  very  life  of  some  manufacturing  industries 
in  America.  The  obvious  answer  to  this  proposition  is  that  wages 
are  only  one  item  among  many  in  the  cost  of  every  manufactured 
article,  and  a  manufacturer  who  cannot  pay  the  current  rates  of 
wages  without  loss  is  misapplying  his  money,  while  the  law  does  a 
serious  injury  to  the  community  by  making  it  contribute  to  keep 
such  a  business  on  its  legs.  If  wages  and  profits  always  displaced 
each  other,  and  no  employer  could  make  profits  if  he  paid  high 

7 


146 


LABOB,  WAGES,  Ain>  THB  TARIFF. 


•  ! 


wages,  this  would  be  equivalent  to  saying  that  America  would  do 
better  to  avoid  manufacturing  altogether  and  stick  to  selling  her 
Tiigh-priced  agricultural  labor  in  foreign  markets,  where  she  can  ob- 
tain the  results  of  two  days'  toil  in  exchange  for  that  of  one.  Every 
American,  indeed,  would  be  ready  to  admit,  in  general  terms,  the 
truth  of  this  elementary  position,  but,  being  extremely  anxious  to 
make  his  country  independent  of  others  for  the  supply  of  all  her 
wants,  he  would  deny  its  applicability  to  the  United  States^  So  far 
as  it  is  concerned,  he  would  aver  that,  although  it  suffers  at  first, 
the  community  gains  at  last,  by  nursing  industries  which,  after  they 
have  learned  to  run  alone,  will  represent  an  increase  in  the  national 
wealth  and  power. 

Now  it  is  evident  that  no  industry  can  ever  ran  alone  in  America 
so  long  as  her  wages  are  higher  than  those  of  Europe,  if,  as  almost 
all  Americans  appear  to  believe,  the  question  of  who  can  compete 
with  whom  is  one  of  comparative  wages  only.  But  there  is,  in  truth, 
no  such  simple  relation  between  wages  and  profits,  for  the  latter  de- 
pend upon  a  large  number  of  conditions  of  which  labor  is  only  one. 
Both  may  be,  and  generally  are,  high  or  low  togethP",  capital  and 
labor  each  earning  more  money  in  good  and  less  money  in  bad 
times.  It  suits  American  protectionists  to  shut  their  eyes  to  this 
fact,  one  of  the  commonplaces  of  commerce,  while  they  cry,  "We 
cannot  compete  with  the  pauper  labor  of  Europe."  Yet  the  com- 
petitor they  most  fear  is  England,  who,  with  wages  higher  than  those 
of  any  country  on  the  Continent,  distances  all  her  European  rivals  in 
cheapness  of  production.  In  the  same  way,  the  American  farmer, 
paying  very  high  wages,  and  handicapped  by  the  cost  of  transport, 
beats  the  "pauper  labor  of  Europe  "  in  its  own  markets,  certain  con- 
ditions, of  more  moment  than  wages,  being  favorable  in  both  these 
cases. 

There  is,  in  fact,  no  more  untrustworthy  guide  to  the  relative  cost 
of  any  products  than  mere  comparative  statements  of  wages.  Pro- 
tectionist zeal  takes  care  that  these,  whether  accurate  or  not,  shall 
abound  in  the  public  documents  of  the  States,  and  they  are  con- 
stantly appealed  to  as  unanswerable  arguments  in  favor  of  protec- 
tion. But  zeal,  as  usual,  proves  too  much,  or  whence  the  hope  that 
manufactures  will,  some  day,  run  alone  in  America?  This  comes 
from  the  conviction,  whose  expression  all  the  clamor  for  protection 
cannot  stifle,  that  the  possibilities  of  American  manufactures  are  not 
bounded  by  the  price  of  labor  alone,  but  are  largely  influenced  by 
other  considerations,  upon  which,  however,  it  is  not  the  interest  of 
capital  to  enlarge. 

How  important  these  considerations  sometimes  are  will  best  ap- 
pear from  an  illustration.  The  reaping-machine  is  one  of  the  most 
labor-saving  of  all  farm  implements,  accomplishing  the  work  of 


LIBOR,  WAGES,  AND  THE  TARIFF. 


147 


live  cost 
9.  Pro- 
ot,  shall 
are  con- 

protec- 
[ope  that 
is  come? 

•otection 
are  not 

(need  by 

terest  of 

(best  ap- 
Ihe  most 
rork  of 


twenty  men  using  the  sickle.  All  the  grain  grown  in  America  is 
cut  by  the  reaper,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  if  we  suppose  that  the 
hired  man  who  tends  it  is  paid  thrse  times  m  much  as  an  English 
farm  laborer,  there  is  clearly  roam  to  save  a  third  of  twenty,  or,  say, 
six  out  of  every  seven  pounds  paid  for  his  harvest  by  the  English 
farmer  who  docs  not  employ  a  machine. 

That  the  use  of  the  reaper  is  much  less  common,  and  the  cost  of 
harvesting  consequently  greater  in  England  than  in  America,  is  the 
direct  result  of  the  low  price  of  agricultural  labor  in  the  latter  coun, 
try.  The  Western  farmer  cannot  afford  to  reap  by  hand,  but  such 
of  his  British  confreres  as  use  the  sickle  are  tempted  to  be  lavish  by 
the  very  cheapness  of  the  labor  at  their  command.  They  know  that 
a  reaper  costs  considerable  money,  but  do  not  realize  how  much  it 
saves.  They  know  that  the  machines  must  be  tended  by  intelligent 
men,  but  they  dislike  the  trouble  of  either  finding,  training,  or  them- 
selves supplying  the  required  skill.  Meanwhile,  vaguely  thinking 
of  labor  as  "cheap,"  they  end  by  paying  six  times  as  much  for  a 
given  service  as  the  farmer  whose  labor  is  dear.  Here,  then,  is  an 
instance  in  which  any  calculation  as  to  the  relative  cost  of  harvest 
in  England  and  America,  based  upon  the  difference  between  agri- 
cultural wages  in  the  two  countries,  would  be  totally  fallacious — nor 
does  the  case  stand  by  any  means  alone. 

It  might  well  be  supposed  that  if  two  competitors  have  equal  ac- 
cess to  a  given  labor-saving  appliance,  both  would  seek  to  obtain  the 
same  advantages  from  it ;  but,  in  practice,  the  cheap-labor  man  is 
always  behind  the  dear-labor  man,  whether  in  the  invention  or  ap- 
plication of  labor-saving  devices.  There  are,  indeed,  certain  indus- 
tries, such  as  the  textiles,  whose  machinery,  English  in  its  origin, 
has  been  so  long  perfected,  if  machinery  can  ever  be  called  perfected, 
that  they  might  seem  independent  of  this  rule,  but  facts  can  be  ad- 
duced which  favor  its  application  even  to  exceptional  cases  of  this 
kind.  The  textiles,  however,  do  not  employ  quite  two  and  a  half 
per  cent,  of  the  whole  working  population  of  America,  and  should 
not  be  allowed  to  prejudice  the  case  of  free  trade  so  long  as,  aside 
from  them,  American  manufactures  generally  offer  a  boundless  field 
for  the  cultivation  of  economy. 

Meanwhile,  we  have  already  seen  how  warmly  the  American  mind 
welcomes  improvr;ment;  we  know  that  the  Connecticut  man,  our 
typical  American  mechanic,  lives  chiefly  to  save  labor,  and  that  labor 
appreciates  the  value  to  itself  of  the  mechanic's  function.  In  Eng- 
land these  charactsristics  are  replaced  by  the  love  of  the  "ancient 
ways,"  by  the  schemer  fettered  with  trade-society  rules,  and  by  op- 
eratives who  dislike  all  labor-saving  appliances  because  they  "  make 
work  scarce."  Surely  these  considerations  must  count  for  some- 
thing in  estimating  the  relative  cost  of  English  and  American  pro- 


148 


LABOR,  WAGES,  AND  THE  TARIFF. 


Hi 


r 


duction,  wbiio  they  would  become  still  more  weighty  if  the  contrast 
lay  between  the  States  and  other  European  countries.  Further  than 
this — my  sketch  of  native  labor,  which,  after  all,  leavens  the  foreign 
lump,  must  be  very  faulty  if  it  fail  to  make  the  reader  realize  the 
high  principles,  temperate  habits,  and  unusual  ardor  of  the  Ameri 
can  operative.  His  principles  compel  him  faithfully  to  keep  the 
bargain  he  makes  for  the  sale  of  his  labor;  he  is  a  steady  worker 
because  a  temperate  man,  and  his  ardor  gives  him  a  remarkable  in- 
terest in  whatever  he  undertakes  to  do. 

Such  were  the  considerations  which  suggested  to  my  mind  that 
American  wages,  if  nominally  fifty  per  cent,  higher  than  those  of 
England,  might  perhaps  effect  fifty  per  cent,  more  work,  and,  thus 
measured  by  production,  the  only  true  test  of  value,  prove  to  be 
really  no  costlier  in  the  one  country  than  the  other.  The  following 
example  will  demonstrate  that  this  is,  sometimes,  at  any  rate,  the 
case,  and  that,  in  spite  of  the  "  pauper-labor  "  cry,  many  mechanical 
industries  arc  actually  carried  on  in  the  States  with  as  much  advan- 
tage as  in  England,  so  far  as  labor  is  concerned;  a  more  skilful  or- 
ganization and  more  active  workmen  redressing  the  economical  bal- 
ance which  would  otherwise  be  overweighted  by  high  wages. 

Agricultural  implements  form  an  important  branch  of  manufact- 
ure in  America,  where  a  brisk  demand  for  these  tools  is  met  by  a 
keenly  competitive  supply,  which  has  brought  prices  considerably 
below  English  levels.  Having  an  intimate  personal  acquaintance 
with  the  cost  of  such  goods  in  England,  I  gratefully  welcomed  the 
access  which  the  extreme  kindness  of  friends,  the  owners  of  a  famous 
American  implement  factory,  gave  me  to  certain  figures,  usually 
quite  inaccessible  to  outsiders,  which  completely  confirmed  my  sur- 
mises. 

I  was  thus  enabled  to  make  an  accurate  comparison  between  the 
cost  of  production  in  America  and,  in  England,  and  that  in  an  in- 
dustry which  employs  so  many  different  classes  of  mechanics  that 
my  conclusions  may  very  properly  be  extended  to  a  number  of  other 
manufacturing  establishments.  The  comparison  may  further  be  re- 
lied upon  as  absolutely  fair,  the  goods  in  both  casjes  being  practically 
identical,  and  the  English  cost  of  production  standing  as  low  as  a 
very  large  output,  skilful  management,  and  a  strict  piecework  sys- 
tem could  make  it.  Such  are  the  circumstances  under  which  I 
found  that,  measured  by  production,  and  not  by  the  d^y-wages  rates, 
English  and  American  labor  values  are  practically  identical,  the 
fractional  difference  being  actually  in  favor  of  the  American  maker. 

The  skilled  artisans  in  the  factory  in  question,  working  by  the 
piece,  earned  each  an  average  of  four  pounds  a  week,  while  the  im- 
skilled  laborer  received  thirty-three  shillings  a  week  day-wages.  In 
the  English  factory  with  which  it  was  compared,  while  a  few  men, 


LABOR,  WAGES,  AND  THE  TARIFT. 


149 


holding  the  position,  so  to  speak,  of  contractors,  and  paying  a  num- 
ber of  under  hands,  made  four  and  even  five  pounds  a  week,  the  aver- 
age rate  of  wages  earned  by  skilled  and  unskilled  labor  together  was 
no  more  than  one  pound  per  man  per  week. 

In  view  of  these  figures,  and  carefully  keeping  actual  costs  out  of 
sight,  the  American  protectionist  might  easily  catch  uuinstructed 
ears  with  the  hollow  cry,  "  We  cannot  jcompete  with  the  pauper  la- 
bor of  Europe,"  while,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  not  only  is  the  concern  in 
question  making  agricultural  machines  as  cheaply  as  any,  and  more 
cheaply  than  some  English  houses,  but  exporting  them  to  this  coun- 
try, where,  selling  at  the  current  prices  of  similar  goods,  they  realize 
more  than  they  do  in  the  States. 

Trustworthy  comparisons  of  this  kind  are,  from  the  very  nature  of 
things,  extremely  difficult  to  obtain,  but  one  such  reaches  a  long  way, 
while  there  are  abundant  indications  that,  thanks  to  the  causes  al- 
ready set  forth,  many  American  makers  are  quite  able  to  compete  on 
equal  terms  with  their  foreign  rivals,  even  in  goods  whose  cost  con- 
sists chiefly  of  labor.  There  are  now  settled  in  London  several 
American  merchants,  who  import  hundreds  of  different  Yankee  arti- 
cles for  home  and  colonial  consumption,  and  these  not  mere  trifles, 
like  apple-parers  and  cheap  clocks,  but  such  essentially  English 
specialties  as  machine-tools  for  the  use  of  engineers,  the  produce  of 
highly  skilled  labor.  Every  maker,  indeed,  with  whom  I  talked  in 
New  England,  the  textiles  excepted,  was  either  already  an  exporter 
to  a  small  extent,  or  confident  of  his  power  to  become  so  if  he  "  could 
only  get  his  raw  materials  free  of  duty, "and  almost  feverishly  anx- 
ious for  a  "  wider  market." 

The  fact  is  that,  already,  America  begins  to  find  where  the  shoe 
pinches,  and  to  suffer  for  her  self-imposed  isolation  from  the  mar- 
kets of  the  world.  Her  wages,  measured  by  production,  being,  as 
we  have  seen,  by  no  means  burdensome,  it  will  readily  be  understood 
how  lucrative  the  protected  industries  must  have  been  before  prices 
were  moderated  by  competition,  and  how  eagerly  capital  would 
therefore  rush  into  them.  This  it  did,  often  without  technical 
knowledge,  and  always  with  little  care  for  economy,  because  inordi- 
nate profits  were  upheld  by  duties  which,  giving  to  gatherers  who 
had  not  strewn,  made  careful  management  needless. 

The  results  are  already  visible  to  the  most  superficial  observer  of 
commercial  affairs  in  the  States,  and  may  be  illustrated  by  the  typi- 
cal case  of  the  American  Screw  Company.  This  great  concern, 
which  makes  almost  all  the  wood-screws  used  in  America,  cannot 
establish  a  foreign  trade  because  of  the  duty  upon  its  raw  material, 
wire.  Labor  is  not  a  burdensome  item  in  the  cost  of  production,  for 
screws  are  made  by  automatic  machines,  of  which  one  person  tends 
a  greater  number  in  Providence  than  in  Birmingham,  but  the  con- 


150 


LABOR,  WAGBB,  AlTD  THE  TARIFF. 


cern  has  to  pay  forty  per  cent,  more  than  the  European  market-price 
for  its  wire.  This  was  a  matter  of  little  consequence  to  the  com- 
pany so  long  as  it  had  few  home,  as  it  has  no  foreign,  competitors, 
because  the  profits  earned  during  that  happy  period  were  enormously 
high.  It  is  even  said  that  the  mill  in  question  once  kept  nothing  but 
a  cash  account,  paying  for  its  materials,  as  it  paid  for  its  labor,  once 
a  month,  in  dollars,  and  dividing  the  balance  of  profit,  which  was 
enormous,  also  in  hard  cash,  monthly.  Such  a  state  of  things  could 
not  last  very  long,  and,  in  the  course  of  time,  capital,  anxious  to  share 
in  the  plunder,  built  no  less  than  forty  screw-making  works  in  the 
States,  of  which,  after  an  internecine  struggle,  only  fourteen  survive 
to  the  present  day,  these,  together,  being  more  than  able  to  supply  all 
the  home  demand  for  wood-screws. 

Internal  competition  has,  indeed,  begun  its  inevitable  work.  Even 
the  American  market  is  not  infinite  in  capacity,  especially  for  goods 
at  protective  prices,  so  that,  of  the  numerous  mills  which  the  desire 
to  share  in  protected  profits  called  into  being,  many  are  now  short- 
ening time,  while  others  are  "  shutting  down  "  altogether.  "  Over- 
productioL  "  is  a  word  in  every  maker's  mouth,  the  desire  for  a  for- 
eign market  in  every  maker's  heart,  while  industrial  America  is,  at 
the  present  moment,  preparing  to  wait,  idly  and  gloomily,  for  the 
wants  of  the  country  to  reduce  her  surplus  stocks.* 

But,  the  philosophic  few  apart,  men  who  sigh  for  wider  markets 
approve  the  duties  which  bar  them  from  those  markets,  saying, 
"See  how  prosperous  we  have  been  under  protection!"  while  they 
whisper  despairingly  into  the  ears  of  free- trade  visitors,  "  If  we  could 
only  have  our  raw  materials  free  1"  Bemoaning  the  loss  of  their  old 
profits,  which  they  attribute  to  the  tariff,  they  fully  understand  that 
something  must  be  done  to  secure  new  markets,  while  they  fail  to 
see  that  protection  has  itself  killed  monopoly,  "  the  goose  which  laid 
the  golden  eggs." 

And  now,  what  are  "  raw  materials  "?  Sheet  brass  for  the  clock- 
shops,  and  wire  for  the  pin-shops,  of  the  Naugatuck  valley;  leather 
for  the  bootmakers  of  North  Adams  and  Lynn;  wood-pulp  for  the 
paper-mills  of  Dalton  and  Holyoke;  iron  and  steel  for  the  great 
gun-shops  of  Hartford,  which  already,  in  spite  of  "dear  labor,"  sup- 
ply the  world  with  rifles,  and  so  on  in  every  other  industry.  But 
these  things  are  not  raw  materials,  they  are  manufactured  products, 
to  ask  for  any  one  of  which  duty  free  is  a  very  lopsided  kind  of 
protection,  while  to  ask  for  them  all  duty  free  is  free  trade.  If  the 
mill-owners  of  New  England  were,  all  together,  to  proclaim  upon  the 
house-tops  that  nothing  short  of  free  raw  materials  will  rescue  them 


*Thia  wav  written  several  months  before  the  occurrence  of  the  flimucUl  crisis  of 
May,  ISM. 


LABOR,  WAGES,  AND  TUB  TARIFF. 


151 


from  the  dangerous  position  into  wliicli  internal  competition  has 
brouglit  tliem,  tlie  American  tariff  would  forthwith  begin  to  dwindle, 
and  American  manufacturers  take  the  first  steps  towards  those  open 
markets  for  want  of  access  to  which  the  trade  of  to-day  is  lan- 
guishing. 

That  I  am  not  speaking  in  figures  upon  the  stagnation  of  Ameri- 
can manufactures,  let  figures  themselves  declare.  The  progress  of 
manufactures  in  any  country  can  be  more  accurately  measured  by 
the  statistics  of  the  coal  trade  than  by  any  less  comprehensive  gauge. 
Tested  in  this  way,  protectionist  America  makes  a  poor  showing  be- 
side free-trade  England,  for  while  the  coal  product  of  the  latter  coun- 
try increased  by  fifty  per  cent.,  comparing  the  decade  ending  in  1880 
with  the  decade  ending  in  1870,  the  output  of  coal  in  America  actu- 
ally diminished  during  the  same  period. 

Why,  then,  docs  not  the  American  maker,  than  whom  no  shrewder 
man  exists,  cry  aloud  for  that  which,  with  many  protestations  of  be- 
ing no  free-trader,  he  tells  you,  sotto  voce,  he  needs—  raw  materials 
free?  Because,  and  here  we  return  to  the  point  whence  we  started, 
labor  will  not  have  it.  The  working-man  in  the  States  has  been  sed- 
ulously taught,  as  we  have  already  seen,  that  the  tariff  lifts  his  lot 
high  above  that  of  the  "pauper  labor"  of  Europe.  He  does  not 
know  that  the  distance  dividing  these  levels  is  narrower  than  his 
teachers  tell  him,  but  their  doctrine  is  so  seductively  simple  that, 
buttressed  by  selfishness,  it  holds  a  very  strong  position  in  the  popu- 
lar mind.  The  "pauper  labor  of  Europe"  was  a  splendid  text  for 
capital  to  preach  from,  when  a  high  tariff  meant  inflated  prices  and 
enormous  profits  for  all  kinds  of  manufactured  goods  ;  but  internal 
competition  is  rapidly  changing  all  that,  and  will  change  the  protec- 
tionist's gospel  itself  ere  long.  In  strict  proportion  to  their  eager- 
ness for  foreign  markets,  American  manufacturers  will  presently  real- 
ize that  they  possess  advantages,  in  readiness  to  learn,  quickness  to 
adapt,  and  skill  to  organize,  over  every  other  nation  in  the  world, 
while  the  labor  they  command  is  high-principled,  intelligent,  and  in- 
dustrious in  no  common  degree.  Men  with  such  cards  in  their 
hands  will  not  hesitate  to  sit  down  for  a  commercial  rubber  with 
Europe  when  protected  manufacture  has  degenerated,  as  it  is  already 
rapidly  doing,  into  a  game  of  beggar  my  neighbor. 

The  real  trouble  will  arise  with  labor,  which  will  not  leave  the 
fool's  paradise  in  which  it  now  lives  until  wiser  men  than  its  old 
masters  have  taught  it  that  to  remain  means  industrial  ruin.  The 
first  step,  however,  towards  effecting  a  change  in  the  attitude  of 
America  towards  the  tariff  is,  fortunately,  eesy.  The  great  mass  of 
labor  employed  in  agriculture  in  the  States  seldom  stops  work  to 
reckon  how  much  it  pays  for  the  fancied  purpose  of  keeping  the 
national  wages  at  a  high  level.    A  little  treatise  on  "The  Western 


T 


IM 


LABOR,  WAGES,  AMD  THK  TARIFF. 


Farmer  of  America,"  by  Mr.  Augustus  Mongredicn,  should  be  in  the 
hands  of  every  American  agriculturist,  and  its  vigorous  sketch  of 
what  the  tariff  really  docs  for  him  before  every  farmer's  eyes.  Sum- 
marizing this  economist's  figures  in  a  few  sentences,  we  learn  that 
the  average  annual  expenditure  of  the  agricultural  population  of 
America  is  about  seventy  millions  sterling.  Of  this  sum,  however, 
only  fifty  millions  produce  an  adequate  return  for  the  money  spent, 
the  remaining  twenty  millions  being  squandered  in  paying,  at  the 
rate  of  fourteen  pounds  instead  of  ten,  for  all  the  commodities  of 
life.  A  yearly  loss  of  twenty  millions,  amounting  to  twelve  pounds 
per  annum  individually,  does  not,  of  course,  destroy  the  fanner's 
profits,  but  is  a  very  serious  national  loss  nevertheless. 

And,  incredible  as  it  may  seem,  this  money  is  as  absolutely  wasted 
as  it  would  be  in  hiring  an  army  of  men  to  dig  holes  and  fill  them  up 
again.  Apart  from  the  cost  of  its  collection,  towards  which  the 
farmer  contributes  a  million,  all  the  rest  is  handed  over  to  the  manu- 
facturers of  the  Eastern  States,  whose  very  claim  for  protection, 
which  the  country  admits,  is  a  denial  of  inordinate  profits.  Thus, 
the  farmer  spends  twenty  millions  a  year  in  trying  to  enrich  the 
manufacturer,  who,  instead  of  being  benefited,  suffers  with  his  would 
be  benefactor  a  proportionate  loss  on  his  yearly  expenditure,  from 
exactly  the  same  causes. 

Oreat  as  the  evil  is,  its  removal  is  easy,  but  the  remedy  lies  in  the 
hands  of  the  farmers.  They  have  simply  to  say  to  every  candidate 
for  Congress,  "  Will  you  vote  for  a  reduction  of  five  per  cent,  every 
successive  year  on  the  import  duties  till  the  whole  are  abolished  ?" 
The  voting  power  of  the  farmers  is  overwhelming.  Scarcely  know- 
ing their  own  strength,  they  are  the  backbone  of  the  republic. 
They  own  most  of  its  soil,  they  have  created  most  of  its  wealth,  and 
they  form  the  most  numerous  and  influential  body  among  its  popu- 
lation ;  it  is  only  for  them  to  signify  that  they  will  no  longer  bear  the 
unjust  burden  of  protective  taxation,  and  it  will  melt  away. 

What  would  be  the  result  of  this  upon  the  manufacturing  interests 
of  the  country  ?  Let  one  of  the  most  eloquent  free-traders  in  Con- 
gress, Mr.  Hewitt,  the  member  from  New  York,  reply  to  this  question. 
"  The  transition,"  from  protection  to  free  trade,  "  may  be  made  grad- 
ually and  naturally,  but  if  we  continue  to  dam  up  the  stream  of 
progress,  it  may  come  accompanied  by  a  convulsion  that  will  shatter 
the  very  framework  of  our  society.  If  the  change  is  provided  for 
by  intelligent  legislation,  we  shall  begin  by  exporting  our  coarse  cot- 
tons, as  we  did  before  the  war ;  we  shall  extend  the  foreign  markets 
for  our  admirable  products  of  steel  and  iron,  and  gradually  supplant 
England  in  the  markets  of  the  world  with  the  productions  which  we 
can  turn  out  at  a  less  cost  in  labor  than  will  be  possible  for  her  to 
do,  after  paying  freights  on  our  raw  cotton  and  our  food.    The 


LABOR,  ^TAOEB,  AND  THE  TARIFF. 


168 


primacy  of  industry  will  be  transferred  from  the  Old  World  to  the 
New,  and  this  without  impairing  our  ability  to  pay  the  higher  rate 
of  wages  due  to  cheaper  food,  lower  taxes,  and  greater  personal  in- 
telligence in  work."  • 

This  is  no  illusory  anticipation,  and,  concerned  as  we  now  are 
solely  with  America,  it  is  important  enough  to  turn  our  thoughts  for 
a  moment  to  English  interests.  It  is  impossible  not  to  foresee  that 
the  United  States  will,  in  the  end,  become  the  greatest  manufacturing 
country  of  the  world,  although  the  result  may  be  immensely  retarded 
by  the  endless  evils  which  spread  lilce  weeds  over  a  country  where 
protection  has  long  prevailed.  But,  sooner  or  later,  the  day  will 
come  when  American  enterprise  shall  enter,  unshackled,  the  markets 
of  the  world,  and,  plume  ourselves  as  we  may  On  the  fact  that,  in 
spite  of  hostile  tariffs,  we  send  yearly  twenty-five  millions  of  manu- 
factured goods  into  the  States,  while  they  only  return  us  three  mill- 
ions, that  will  be  a  black  or  a  bright  day  for  England,  as  we  our- 
selves shall  make  it.  Mr.  Hewitt's  last  words  are  a  warning.  If, 
when  America  adopts  free  trade,  we  have  not  gained  that  "greater 
personal  intelligence  in  work  "  which  it  is  one  of  the  objects  of  this 
book  to  show  that  she  already  possesses,  then,  indeed,  it  may  be  feared 
that  the  industrial  supremacy  of  the  Old  World  may  pass  into  the 
hands  of  the  New.  Let  us  look  to  it,  while  the  battle  of  free  trade 
rages  across  the  Atlantic,  as  rage  it  soon  will,  that  we  import  some 
American  readiness  and  grip  into  our  board-rooms  and  offices,  some 
sense  of  the  dignity  of  labor  into  our  workshops.  It  is  not  cheap 
coal,  as  it  is  not  cheap  labor,  that  gives  us  our  present  industrial  su- 
premacy in  Europe.  This  is  the  child  of  intelligence  applied  to  pro- 
duction, and  our  cheaper  labor  will  avail  us  no  more  against  the 
coming  transatlantic  competitor,  when  his  native  wit  has  been  sharp- 
ened by  free  trade,  than  that  of  Europe  avails  her  against  ourselves. 

To  return,  and  to  conclude  with  the  question — What  is  likely  to 
happen  if  America  delays  too  long  to  reform  her  tariff?  Mr.  Hewitt 
shall  answer  again,  "  Our  capacity  to  produce  is  now  fully  equal  to 
our  wants,  and  In  most  branches  of  business  there  are  already  indi- 
cations that  the  demand 'is  not  fully  equal  to  the  supply.  If,  when 
the  surplus  comes,  it  cannot  get  an  outlet,  then  it  will  not  be  pro- 
duced ;  a  portion  of  our  labor  will  l)e  unemployed,  and  no  increase 
in  the  tariff,  not  even  if  the  existing  rates  of  duty  were  doubled, 
would  provide  an  adequate  remedy  in  such  an  emergency.  Should 
these  circumstances  coincide  with  good  harvests  abroad,  we  shall 
have  a  great  surplus  of  food  upon  our  hands,  and  the  price  will  fall ; 
wages  will  go  down  with  the  fall  in  price  ;  the  reduction  of  wages 


*  Speech  of  the  lion.  A.  S.  Hewitt,  delivered  in  the  Ilonse  of  Representntivev, 
March  SO,  188S. 

1* 


154 


LABOR,  WAGES,  AND  THE  TARIFF. 


will  be  resisted  by  strikes  and  lockouts;  the  conflicts  between  capi- 
tal and  labor  will  be  reopened,  and  have  indeed  already  begun;  the 
prosperity  of  the  country  will  be  arrested;  there  will  be  a  dearth  of 
employment  all  over  it;  the  volume  of  immigration  will  fall  off,  and 
the  career  of  expansion  and  general  development  will  be  brought  to 
a  disastrous  conclusion;  the  sad  experience  of  1873-79  will  lie  re- 
peated until,  passing  through  the  gates  of  suffering,  poverty,  and 
want,  the  products  of  the  country,  weighted  as  they  are  with  obutruc- 
tive  taxes,  which  must.be  deducted  from  the  wages  of  labor,  will 
force  their  way  into  the  open  markets  of  the  world  in  spite  of  the 
tariff.  We  shall  then  reach  the  era  of  free  trade,  but  upon  condi- 
tions which  will  deprive  this  generation  of  workmen  of  all  the  bene- 
fits they  would  have  derived  from  it  if  the  way  had  been  properly 
prepared  for  its  final  triumph.  Free  trade  must  come,  and,  with 
wise  statesmanship,  the  transition  may  be  made,  not  only  without 
disaster  or  suffering,  but  with  immense  benefit  to  the  general  welfare. 
With  a  failure  to  comprehend  the  situation,  however,  it  will  come 
throuf h  convulsions  and  revolutions,  from  the  suffering  and  horrors 
of  v/hioh  I  prefer  to  turn  away  in  silence. 

"  But  there  is  one  aspect  of  the  case  to  which  I  cannot  shut  my 
eyes.  The  whole  structure  and  genius  of  our  government  must  be 
changed  to  meet  the  primary  necessity  which  will  thus  arise  for  pre- 
serving social  order.  With  the  general  occurrence  of  strikes  and 
lockouts  will  come,  as  in  the  case  of  the  railroad  riots  in  1877,  the 
demand  for  the  presence  of  troops,  force  will  be  met  by  force,  a 
larger  standing  army  will  be  demanded  by  public  opinion  and  con- 
ceded by  Congress,  and  the  powers  and  rights  of  states  will  be  sub- 
ordinated to  the  superior  vigor  and  resources  of  the  national  govern- 
ment. With  a  large  standing  army,  acting  as  a  national  police,  un- 
der an  omnipotent  executive,  the  era  of  free  government  will  have 
passed  away,  and  all  that  freedom  has  gained  in  a  thousand  years  by 
the  heroic  struggles  of  our  forefathers,  or  our  own  resistance  to  tyr- 
anny in  the  New  World,  will  be  put  in  peril.  Such  a  calamity  can 
never  come  about  except  by  the  people  of  this  country,  aud  their  rep- 
resentatives on  this  floor,  failing  to  comprehend  the  spirit  and  neg- 
lecting the  warnings  of  the  time."* 


*  Speech  of  the  Ilun.  A.  S.  Hewitt,  delirered  in  the  Hon««  of  Repreaentativei, 
March  30, 1889. 


Chapter  XVII. 

BOSTON. 

Ak  Englishman  arriving  for  the  first  time  at  Boston  is  conscious 
of  very  different  emotions  from  those  with  which  he  first  beholds 
New  Yorlc.  Here,  from  the  moment  of  landing  to  leaving,  every- 
thing sug  ;ests  the  present  and  future  ;  nothing  even  whispers  of  the 
past,  H<  seems  to  sojourn  in  a  great  camp,  elbowed  by  the  excited 
soldiery  of  civilization,  who  march  to  unknown  conquests,  following 
the  flag  of  fortune.  The  rudeness  of  some,  and  the  luxury  of  other 
surroundings  remind  him,  now  of  a  soldier's  rough  quarters,  now  of 
the  pomp  of  some  great  commander's  tent.  Mentally  he  sees  every- 
where the  preparation  for  a  campaign,  and  hears,  from  dawn  to  dark, 
the  trumpets  of  progress  harshly  braying. 

Boston,  on  the  other  hand,  is,  like  London,  a  city  where  commerce 
in  a  reigning  king,  rather  than  a  military  chief  planning  new  inva- 
sions. Hence,  while  one  talks  of  Wall  Street  and  the  Produce  Ex- 
change, of  the  Elevated  Railroad  and  the  Brooklyn  Bridge,  of  Cen- 
tral Park,  Fifth  Avenue,  and  of  "  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil " 
in  New  York,  one  thinks,  in  Boston,  of  Miles  Standish  and  the  Puri- 
tan settlers,  of  General  Gage  and  the  Boston  Boys,  of  the  Stamp  Act 
and  the  tea-ships,  of  Lexington  and  national  iudependence. 

Whether  Miles  Standish  was  really  the  first  white  man  who  ever 
landed  on  the  shore  of  what  is  now  Boston  harbor  is  a  matter  of  con- 
jecture. Certain  it  is,  however,  that  this  stout  Puritan  soldier, 
"  broad  in  the  shoulders,  deep  chested,  with  muscles  and  sinet^s  of 
iron,"  sailed  with  some  ten  companions  from  the  Plymouth  colony 
and  landed  upon  the  peninsula  in  1621,  "  partly  to  see  the  country, 
partly  to  make  peace  with  the  Massachusetts  Indians,  and  partly  to 
procure  their  truck."  After  being  feasted  with  lobsters  and  cod- 
fish, Standish  made  a  treaty  of  friendship  with  Obbatinewat,  the 
native  lord  of  the  soil,  and  the  party  returned  to  the  bleak  home  of 
the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  with  a  considerable  quantity  of  beaver,  a  good 
report  of  the  place,  and  "  wishing  we  had  seated  ourselves  there." 

Five  years  after  this,  the  first  visit  of  the  English  to  Boston  har- 
bor, the  Rev.  William  Blackstone,  an  eccentric  Episcopal  minister, 
squatted  upon  the  peninsula,  where  he  built  a  small  cottage  and 
lived  a  solitary  life.    Presently,  in  1C80,  came  Governor  WLathrop 


166 


BOSTON. 


from  England,  leading  the  party  of  Puritans  who,  as  we  Icnow, 
founded  the  colony  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  and  who,  four  years  after 
their  first  settlement,  bought,  for  thirty  pounds,  forty-four  of  the 
fifty  acres  which  Blackstone  claimed,  setting  them  aside  as  a  train- 
ing-field and  for  the  feeding  of  cattle.  Disliking  the  supremacy  of 
the  "Lords  Brethren,"  as  much  as  he  had  previously  disliked  that 
of  the  Lords  Bishops,  Blackstone  left  Boston  after  the  sale  of  his 
property,  every  acre  of  which  may  still  be  trodden  by  the  curious, 
for  the  training-field  of  1634  is  the  Boston  Common  of  to-day. 

The  Indians  called  the  peninsula  Shawmut,  a  name  which  the 
first  English  settlers  changed  to  Trimountain,  still  surviving  in  Tre- 
mont  Street,  but  soon  giving  way  to  Boston.  The  Puritans,  though 
they  had  been  persecuted  at  home,  had  not  suffered  so  much  as  the 
Pilgrims,  and  felt  miich  more  kindly  than  they  towards  the  mother 
country.  "We  will  not  say,"  cried  Francis  Higginson,  sailing  for 
Massachusetts  Bay  as  Winthrop's  pioneer,  "like  the  Separatists, 
'Farewell,  Babylon!  Farewell,  Rome!'  But  we  will  say,  'Farewell, 
the  Church  of  God  in  England,  and  all  the  Christian  friends  there.' " 
Hence,  remembering  with  love  their  old  pastor,  the  Rev.  John  Cot- 
ton, of  Boston,  in  Lincolnshire,  who  was  soon  to  be  among  them, 
and  thinking  tenderly  of  their  old  fenland  home,  the  men  of  the 
second  Mayflower  called  their  town  Boston. 

Let  us  put  ourselves  back  two  centuries  and  a  half,  and  take  a 
peep  at  the  new  metropolis  of  a  new  England  during  its  earUest 
youth.  The  period  was  that  of  the  first  Charles,  and,  little  as  we 
realize  it  when  we  think  of  the  pioneers  of  America,  the  dress,  man- 
ners, and  customs  of  the  settlers  all  bore  the  stamp  of  the  time. 
People  of  condition  wore  short  cloaks,  doublets,  and  silk  stockings, 
and  even  carried  rapiers,  as  in  England ;  while  the  simpler  sort,  like 
Longfellow's  Miles  Standish,  were  clad  in  "  doublet  and  hose,  with 
boots  of  Cordovan  leather,"  Steeple-crowned  hats,  under  which 
the  elders  wore  velvet  caps,  covered,  here  the  cropped  hair  of  a 
Rouiidhead,  there  the  long,  but  uncurled  locks  of  laxer  heads.  These 
people  lived  in  cottages  made  of  earth  or  logs,  one  story  high,  with 
very  steep,  thatched  roofs,  through  which  a  clay-plastered  log  chim- 
ney protruded.  Entering  any  one  of  these,  we  should  have  found 
the  fireplace  made  of  rough  stones,  with  logs,  four  feet  in  length, 
burning  on  the  faeartli,  which  was  large  enough  for  the  children  to 
sit  in  the  comers  and  look  up  at  the  sky.  Every  house  faced  exact- 
ly south,  so  that  the  sun  shone  square  into  it  at  noon,  and  told  the 
family  that  it  was  time  to  dine.  Such  was  the  economy  of  the 
times  that  Governor  Winthrop  reproved  his  deputy  that  "he  did 
not  well  to  bestow  bo  much  cost  about  wainscoting  and  adorning 
his  house,  both  in  regard  of  public  charges  and  example."  To  which 
reproof  Thomas  Dudley  made  modest  answer,  "that  it  was  but  for 


BOSTON. 


157 


warmth,  and  the  charge  little,  being  but  clapboard,  nailed  to  the 
wall,  in  the  form  of  wainscot." 

"  Let  it  never  be  forgotten,"  said  one  of  the  early  Puritan  preach- 
ers, "that  our  New  England  was  originally  a  plantation  of  religion, 
and  not  a  plantation  of  trade.  And  if  there  be  a  man  among  you 
who  counts  r'^Mgion  as  twelve  and  the  world  as  thirteen,  let  such  a 
one  remember  that  he  hath  neither  the  spirit  of  a  tnie  New  England 
man  nor  yet  of  a  sincere  Christian."  Hence  it  is  titting  that  we 
should  view  the  church  before  we  glance  at  the  street  or  the  market, 
which  last,  indeed,  formed  a  very  minor  interest  of  life  in  early  Pu- 
ritan days. 

On  Sabbath  mornings,  at  nine  o'clock,  a  drum  was  beaten,  a  conch 
sounded,  or  a  bell  rung  to  summon  the  people  to  the  meeting-house. 
This  was  a  log  hut,  fenced  around  with  stakes,  its  entrance  guarded 
by  a  sentinel  in  armor,  in  whose  charge  the  men,  as  they  passed 
within,  left  their  muskets,  always  kept  ready  at  hand  to  repel  an  In- 
dian attack.  The  congregation  was  separated  according  to  age, 
rank,  and  sex,  the  old  men  here,  the  young  men  there,  the  young 
women  elsewhere,  and  the  bc/s  upon  the  pulpit  stairs.  Constables, 
armed  with  wands,  each  with  a  hare's  foot  at  the  end,  paraded  the 
little  aisles,  and  if  a  woman  slept,  a  touch  of  the  hare's  foot  on  her 
forehead  aroused  her;  if  a  boy  snored,  the  other  end  of  the  stick 
sharply  reminded  him  where  he  was.  Three,  and  even  four  times 
was  the  great  hour-glass  beside  the  minister  turned  before  his  morn- 
ing's wrestle  with  the  spirit  of  evil  was  over,  yet  might  no  man  ab- 
sent himself  from  the  service  under  pain  of  being  found  by  the 
*'  tithing-men,"  haled  to  the  church,  and  afterwards  fined,  or,  should 
he  be  absent  for  a  month,  the  public  stocks  were  his  punishment. 

Once  a  month  a  muster  of  "  soldiers  "  took  place  on  the  training- 
ground,  in  other  words,  every  man  over  sixteen  years  of  age  pre- 
sented himself  for  drill.  They  were  armed  with  ten-foot  pikes  and 
matchlocks,  and  wore  steel  helmets  and  breastplates,  or  thickly  pad- 
ded and  quilted  coats,  which  could  turn  an  Indian  arrow.  On  oth- 
er days  the  same  men,  dressed  in  civil  costume  and  wearing  clean 
ruflfs,  assembled  in  the  town  meeting,  and  gravely  discussed  the  af- 
fairs of  the  town  and  interests  of  the  Church.  If  a  vote  were  taken 
they  put  either  a  kernel  of  com  or  a  bean  into  the  ballot-box,  as  they 
wished  to  say  "yes"  or  "no." 

The  laws  which  they  made  were  more  severe  than  wise.  No 
strangers  might  live  in  the  town  without  giving  bonds  of  indemnifi- 
cation and  for  good  behavior.  No  one  might  even  entertain  travel- 
lers without  leave  of  the  selectmen.  Sobriety  was  enjoined  by  law, 
although  the  sale  of  liquors  was  licensed,  but  no  man  might  use  to- 
bacco in  the  street  under  penalty  of  a  shilling  fine.  To  speak  evil 
of  the  ministry  was  a  heinous  offence,  and  to  be  absent  from  meet- 


158 


BOSTON. 


I 


ing  a  crime,  the  watch  were  instructed  that  if,  after  ten  o'clock, 
they  saw  lights,  to  inquire  if  there  be  warrantable  cause ;  if  they 
heard  vain  singing,  to  admonish  the  singers;  if  they  found  young 
men  and  maidens  walking  together,  "modestly  to  demand  the  cause, 
and  if  they  appear  ill-minded,  to  command  them  to  go  to  their 
lodgings,  and  if  they  refuse,  then  to  secure  them  till  morning." 

Which,  after  all,  was  better — the  age  of  faith,  fearing  above  all 
things  to  do  wrong,  and  interfering  in  all  the  aHairs  of  life,  even  to 
persecution,  with  the  object  of  making  a  virtuous  people,  or  the 
morality  of  the  present  time?  Answer  be  it  to  say  that  these  same 
Puritans,  with  all  their  godliness,  could  not  see  that  slavery  was 
wrong.  Negroes  were  first  brought  to  Boston,  in  the  ship  Desire, 
as  early  as  1638,  and,  in  spite  of  some  efforts  to  put  down  the  traffic, 
slavery  steadily  gained  ground  in  the  colony,  until,  at  length,  ne- 
groes were  offered  for  sale  in  the  public  prints  of  Massachusetts  as 
openly  as  in  those  of  the  Southern  States.  But,  while  slaves  changed 
hands  like  ordinary  merchandise,  it  was  an  offence  to  harbor  a  Qua- 
ker, or  attend  a  Quaker  meeting.  When  the  Baptists  tried  to  enter 
their  first  meeting-house  they  found  the  doors  nailed  tip,  and  when 
they  thereupon  held  a  service  in  the  open  air,  they  were  arrested 
and  imprisoned,  l^o  one  could  l)e  found  to  sell  a  plot  of  land  for 
an  Episcopal  church,  while  heresy  might  be  punished,  according  to 
its  "damnableness,"  by  fine,  banishment,  or  even  by  death.  Such 
being  the  Boston  of  the  men  who  built  it  for  a  refuge  from  eccle- 
siastical domination,  let  us  glance  again  ut  the  city  at  a  time  when 
the  sons  of  the  Puritans  were  making  it  a  stronghold  against  the  tyr- 
anny, not  of  English  bishops,  but  of  an  English  king  and  parlia* 
ment. 

Old  Boston,  at  the  time  of  the  war.  was  a  town  of  irregular  streets 
and  narrow  lanes,  bearing  names  either  of  commonplace  charac- 
ter or  of  English  associations.  Thus  there  were  Frog  Lane,  Floun- 
der Lane,  and  Hog  Alley,  together  with  King  Street,  George  Street, 
and  Marlborough  Street,  all  of  which  have  long  since  been  altered. 
The  carriageways  were  pitched  with  large  pebbles,  and  the  footway 
was  marked  off  from  the  road  only  by  a  gutter.  The  houses  were 
still,  for  the  most  part,  of  wood,  ugly  in  appearance,  and  having 
their  shingle  roofs  surmountedtby  railings,  within  which,  on  wash- 
ing-days, the  family  shirts  and  petticoats  flapped  in  the  wind.  The 
mean  look  of  the  houses  was,  however,  somewhat  relieved  by  a  pro- 
fuse and  varied  display  of  signs.  These  decorated  the  shops  with 
such  devices  as  the  Heart  and  Crown,  Three  Nuns  and  a  Comb,  the 
Brazen  Head,  together  with  an  endless  succession  of  golden  balls, 
blue  gloves,  sugar  loaves,  sceptres,  elephants.  Red  Indians,  and  gild- 
ed boots,  but  in  no  case  did  the  sign  bear  any  relation  to  the  busi- 
ness carried  on  beneath  it.    It  is  a  little  remarkable  that,  almost 


BOSTON. 


160 


alone  among  these  sculptured  advertisements,  the  Red  Indian,  in 
America,  simulating  the  Highlander  who  guards  the  British  snuff- 
shop,  survives,  lilce  him,  to  distinguish  the  tobacconist's  trade. 

On  the  west  side  of  the  town  the  streets  were  neater,  and  the 
houses  of  brick,  with  Corinthian  pilasters  up  the  front,  and  Corin- 
thian columns  supporting  the  porch.  Each  dwelling  stood  in  it& 
own  garden,  embowered  with  foliage,  while  long  flights  of  sand- 
stone  steps  gave  access  to  the  front  door,  which  was  frequently 
framed  in  roses  and  honeysuckles.  The  furniture  was  often' im- 
ported from  England,  and  the  housewife  took  a  special  pride  in 
her  china,  cut-glass  dishes,  and  English  silver  plate.  On  the  land- 
ings were  tall,  upright  clocks,  which  chimed  a  tune  every  hour;  in 
the  living-rooms  great  fireplaces  and  shining  brass  andirons;  on 
the  walls  pictures  by  Copley  or  West.  The  books  were  few  and 
uninviting,  according  to  modern  ideas.  The  "Lives  of  the  Mar- 
tyrs," Young's  "Night  Thoughts,"  RolHn's  "Ancient  History,"  the 
"Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and  the  Spectator  were  all  on  the  shelves,  but 
no  novels  of  Richardson,  Fielding,  or  Smollett. 

The  master  and  mistress  might  be  either  austere  or  worldly  peo- 
ple. In  the  former  case,  life  was  governed  by  cast-iron  rules,  which, 
harsh  as  they  seem  to  us,  at  least  generated  force  of  character  and 
fostered  a  high  if  narrow  inteH'gencc.  Books  that  repel  readers  of 
the  present  day  found  diligent  and  thoughtful  students  both  in  the 
bread-winner  and  housewife.  The  girl  of  the  period  was  educated 
at  home,  until  old  enough  to  go  to  school,  where  she  learned,  in  ad- 
dition to  the  three  R's,  a  little  French,  and  how  to  embroider,  draw, 
and  play  upon  the  harpsichord. 

The  frivolous,  on  the  other  hand,  of  whom  there  were  many,  en- 
tertained in  the  good  old  style,  giving  dinners  after  the  English 
fashion,  where,  when  the  ladies  had  withdrawn,  the  punch-bowl 
and  rare  old  Madeiras  gave  life  to  many  a  discussion  upon  politics 
and  religion.  The  ladies  spent  their  time  in  paying  and  receiving 
visits,  while,  once  a  fortnight,  they  attended  public  assemblies  in 
Concert  Hall,  where  the  minuet  and  contre-darme  still  held  the  floor. 

Worldlings  such  as  these,  however,  excited  the  horror  of  the  staid 
majority,  even  in  the  city;  while,  in  the  country,  the  farmer  lived  a 
life  of  absolute  simplicity  and  rigid  pietism.  He  ploughed  his  land, 
sowed  the  seed  broadcast,  cut  it,  when  ripe,  with  a  scythe,  and 
thrashed  it  with  a  flail — all  with  his  own  hands.  His  house  was 
without  paint,  carpets,  or  decorations  of  any  kind.  He  ate  rye- 
bread,  beans,  and  pork,  and  his  two  suits,  of  corduroy  and  broad- 
cloth, after  lasting  him  a  lifetime,  descended  to  his  heir.  The  week- 
days were  given  wholly  to  labor,  and  on  Sunday,  after  the  mid-day 
meal,  the  farmer  sat  in  his  wide  chimney-corner  while  his  daughter, 
Kezia  or  Comfort,  read  him,  let  us  hope,  to  sleep,  with  one  of  those 


160 


BOSTON. 


!      I 


terrible  Calvinistic  sermons,  characteristic  of  the  time,  whose  only 
burden  seems  to  be, 

"You  can  and  yon  can't ;  yon  will  and  yon  won't 
You'll  be  damned  if  you  do;  you'll  be  damned  if  yon  don't." 

Notwithstanding  all  which  the  New  England  farmer,  like  the  citi- 
zen of  the  period,  was  by  no  means  an  unintelligent  or  unimportant 
person.  His  education,  though  not  deep,  was  sound;  his  interest  in 
public  affairs  intense,  while  the  share  which  he  took  in  the  govern- 
ment of  his  township  sharpened  his  political  judgment,  as  his  sense 
of  proprietorship  developed  his  patriotism. 

We  may  well  imagine  that  such  men  as  these,  whether  living  in 
town  or  country,  looked  with  no  favorable  eye  on  the  soldiers  of 
King  George,  whose  presence  in  Boston  overawed  the  colonists,  al- 
ready chafing  against  the  hated  Stamp  Act,  already  echoing  the  cry 
of  "No  taxation  without  representation."  And  when  the  Stamp 
Act  passed,  Boston  expressed  its  feelings  in  no  half-hearted  manner. 
The  people  hanged  the  new  stamp  collector  in  effigy  upon  their 
great  elm,  afterwards  called  "  Liberty  tree,"  and,  defying  the  chief - 
justice,  who  ordered  the  sheriff  to  take  the  image  down,  burned  it 
before  the  officer's  own  door,  and  then  wrecked  the  chief-justice's 
house.  Meanwhile,  in  the  country,  mounted  men  hunted  the  newly 
appointed  stamp  officers  and  forced  them  to  resign  their  posts. 
News  like  this  went  quickly  to  England,  causing  the  wise  Chatham 
to  exclaim,  "I  rejoice  that  America  has  resisted,"  and  bringing 
about,  through  his  influence,  the  repeal  of  the  act  within  a  year  of 
its  passage. 

But  the  troops  remaining  in  Boston  soon  got  into  hot  water  with 
the  people,  and  their  first  brush  was  with  the  boys.  The  latter 
built  snow-hills  every  winter  on  the  Common,  and  these  the  soldiers 
had  several  times  wantonly  trampled  down,  so,  after  vainly  appeal- 
ing to  the  captain,  a  deputation  of  the  boys  waited  upon  General 
Gage,  made  formal  complaint  of  their  grievance,  and  declared  they 
would  bear  It  no  longer.  "What!"  said  the  general,  "have  your 
fathers  taught  you  rebellion,  and  sent  you  here  to  exhibit  it?" 
"Nobody  has  sent  us,  sir,"  answered  one  of  the  boys.  "We  have 
never  injured  or  insulted  your  soldiers,  but  they  have  destroyed  our 
snow-hills,  and  broken  the  ice  on  our  skating-ground.  We  com- 
plained, but  they  called  us  '  young  rebels,'  and  told  us  to  help  our- 
selves if  we  could."     ' 

Happily,  Gage  was  a  good  fellow,  and  took  the  boys'  part;  but 
it  was  not  long  before  a  much  more  serious  quarrel  arose  between 
the  troops  and  the  townspeople.  On  March  5, 1770,  a  party  of  sol- 
diers, straying  about  the  town  with  their  guns  in  their  hands,  were 
taunted  by  and  returned  the  taunts  of  a  crowd.  Some  boys  threw 
snowballs  and  shouted,  "Drive  them  to  barracks!"  and  the  noise 


SBsm 


BOSTON. 


161 


was  increasing  when  the  guard,  commanded  by  Captain  Preston,  ar- 
rived on  the  scene.  Taunts  soon  became  threats,  and  threats  had 
already  ended  in  blows,  when  Preston  ordered  his  men  to  fire;  and, 
on  the  smoke  clearing  away,  eleven  men  were  seen  stretched  upon 
the  ground,  four  of  them  being  stone  dead.  Captain  Preston  was 
tried  for  murder,  but,  shielded  by  the  loyalty  of  men  in  high  posi- 
tion, he  was  acquitted,  notwithstanding  which  the  "Boston  massa- 
cre "  formed  the  first  step  towards  the  Revolutionary  War. 

Three  years  later,  George  III.,  in  the  words  of  Lord  North,  de- 
termined "to  try  the  question  with  America,"  and,  dropping  a  num- 
ber of  vexatious  taxes,  which,  in  spite  of  Pitt's  earnest  remon- 
strances, had  been  rcimposcd  subsequently  to  the  repeal  of  the 
Stamp  Act,  he  stubbornly  insisted  on  retaining  the  tAX  upon  tea. 
Some  large  shiploads  of  tea  were  accordingly  sent  from  England 
to  various  colonial  ports,  and,  among  others,  to  Boston.  Mean- 
while, it  must  be  remembered  that  people  in  the  colonies  were  ev- 
erywhere abstaining  from  the  use  of  articles  upon  which  taxes  were 
laid,  and,  in  this  matter  of  tea,  were  trying  all  sorts  of  native  herbs 
as  a  substitute  for  it.  When  t>"»  ter.-ships  arrived,  therefore,  the  city 
set  a  guard  over  them  as  they  lay  at  the  wharf,  while  endeavoring 
to  persuade  Governor  Hutchinson  to  send  them  peaceably  back  to 
London  without  unloading.  This  the  governor  refused  to  do,  where- 
upon a  body  of  fifty  men,  disguised  as  Indians,  took  possession  of 
the  vessels,  and  threw  their  cargo,  consisting  of  thi%e  hundred  and 
fifty  chests  of  tea,  into  the  harbor.  Then  they  quietly  dispersed, 
and  so  ended  the  famous  "Boston  tea-party,"  which  took  place  on 
December  16, 1773. 

If  we  could  have  entered  Boston  two  years  later,  or  in  the  spring 
of  1775,  we  should  have  found  it  full  of  English  soldiers,  the  city 
protected  by  earthworks  thrown  across  the  "neck"  of  the  penin- 
sula, the  wharves  deserted  by  shipping,  and  only  British  men-of-war 
lying  in  the  harbor.  At  the  same  time  the  citizens  of  old  Boston 
were  meeting  every  night  at  clubs,  where,  from  amid  clouds  of  to- 
bacco smoke,  and  while  the  punch-bowl  went  round,  one  patriotic 
speaker  after  another  encouraged  the  people  to  resistance,  and  even 
incited  them  to  war  in  defence  of  their  liberties. 

At  length  war  came.  The  patriots  of  Massachusetts  colony  had 
already  organized  themselves  as  a  provincial  congress.  From  the 
colonial  militia  they  had  selected  a  body  of  "minute-men,"  who 
were  bound  to  assemble  at  a  moment's  notice.  They  had  collected 
and  stored,  at  Concord,  arms  and  ammunition,  whose  whereabouts 
General  Gage's  spies  could  not  discover,  and  to  secure  which  from 
capture  they  organized  a  special  watch,  whose  instructions  were  to 
hang  out  a  lantern  from  the  North  Church  if,  at  any  time,  a  large 
force  of  troops  should  move  out  of  Boston  under  cover  of  darkness. 


■ 


163 


BOSTON. 


I 


I 


On  the  night  of  April  18, 1775,  this  light  gleamed  from  the  steeple, 
and  immediately  messengers  went  riding  in  all  directions  to  apprise 
the  patriot  leaders  that  the  regulars  were  coming  out.  Meantime 
nearly  a  thousand  British  troops,  embarking  in  boa;ts  at  the  foot  of 
Boston  Common,  left  the  peninsula,  and  were  already  marching 
silently  through  what  is  now  Cambridge,  when,  suddenly,  the  bells 
of  the  country  churches  began  to  ring,  making  it  clear  that  the 
alarm  had  been  given.  ,  The  British  general  in  command  sent  back 
for  more  troops,  at  the  same  time  despatching  Major  Pitcairn,  with 
two  or  three  hundred  men,  to  seize  the  bridge  at  Concord.  But 
when,  early  next  ..norning.  I>?  passed  through  Lexington,  he  found 
his  further  advance  opposed  by  a  small  body  of  militiamen,  under 
the  command  of  Captain  Parker.  Upon  them  the  British  at  once 
opened  fire,  the  Americans  replying,  but  without  doing  much  mis- 
chief, and  Pitcairn  marched  on  towards  Concord,  leaving  eighteen 
Americans  killed  or  wounded  on  the  field. 

The  North  Bridge  at  Concord  was  already  defended  by  nearly  five 
hundred  patriots,  when  the  British  advance,  which  had  now  been 
joined  by  the  main  body  of  troops,  attacked  the  position.  The  Brit- 
ish were  first  to  open  fire,  which  the  militia  and  minute-men  re- 
turned with  such  effect  that  the  regulars  were  soon  in  full  retreat,  a 
retreat  which  presently  became  a  rout.  For  the  whole  country  had 
now  been  aroused  from  sleep  by  the  clanging  of  bells,  and  the  farm- 
ers arriving,  al^ne  or  in  small  parties,  but  without  order  or  disci- 
pline, fell  upon  the  broken  troops,  firing  at  them  from  behind  trees 
and  stone  walls,  until,  at  last,  they  fairly  bolted.  For  sixteen  miles 
the  British  soldiers  ran  the  gantlet  through  a  lane  of  desultory  fire, 
and  were  only  saved  from  total  destruction  b3' reinforcements,  which 
marched  out  of  Boston  and  received  the  remnant  of  tired  fugitives 
within  a  hollow  square.  Thus  opened  the  War  of  Independence,  at 
the  very  gates  of  New  England's  capital,  .behind  whose  defences  the 
shattered  troops  of  Britain  found  a  temporary  shelter,  whence,  how- 
ever, and  within  a  year,  they  were  to  be  forever  driven  by  the  skil- 
ful operations  of  General  Washington. 

01(1  Boston  was,  as  we  have  seen,  a  town  of  signs,  and  its  trading 
quarters  a  labyrinth  where 

"Ott  the  peasant,  tvlth  inquiring  face. 
Bewildered,  trudges  on  from  place  to  place ; 
He  dwells  on  every  sign  with  stupid  gaze, 
Bnters  the  narrow  alley's  donbtfiii  maze, 
Tries  every  winding  court  and  street  in  vain. 
And  doubles  o'er  his  weary  steps  again." 

The  sign  of  Josias  Franklin,  tallow-chandler,  and  father  of  Benja- 
min Franklin,  was  a  blue  ball,  which  hung  suspended  over  a  tiny 
shop  at  the  corner  of  Hanover  Street,  where  the  future  aavant  and 


BOSTON. 


168 


Statesman  dipped  candles  for  his  father,  until,  tiriug  of  this  busi- 
ness, he  entered  his  brother's  printing-office  in  Queen  Street.  Han- 
over and  Queen  streets!  How  much  the  candlemaker,  who  left  the 
one  at  twelve,  to  become  his  brother's  type-setter  in  the  other  at 
fourteen  years  of  age,  was  yet  to  do  towards  changing  these  names 
and  his  country's  future!  Boston,  however,  can  no  longer  honor  the 
little  house  where  the  great  Franklin  was  born,  for  it,  like  a  hun- 
dred other  landmarks  of  the  past,  has  been  swept  away  by  city  im- 
provements. But  the  blue  ball,  at  least,  remains,  a  sacred  relic  in 
the  eyes  of  all  New- Englanders,  carefully  preserved  by  General 
Stone,  of  Boston,  in  memory  of  one  of  her  greatest  sons. 

The  stories  of  his  humor  are  endless,  and  no  man  ever  UDdertook 
^%ater  responsibilities  with  greater  cheerfulness.  Franklin  could 
joke,  whether  putting  his  armor  on  or  ofF,  and,  in  the  latter  case, 
was  perhaps  never  happier  than  in  his  famous  toast  at  Versailles. 
After  the  war  was  over,  he,  with  the  English  ambassador,  was  din- 
ing with  the  French  minister  Yergennes,  when  a  toast  from  each 
was  demanded.  "  I  give  you  George  the  Third,"  said  the  English- 
man, "  who,  like  the  sun  in  his  meridian  splendor,  enlightens  the 
whole  world."  "And  I,"  said  the  Frenchman,  "Louis  the  Six- 
teenth, who,  like  the  moon,  sheds  his  benignant  rays  over  the  uni- 
verse. "  "I  ask  you  to  drink  to  George  Washington, "  cried  Franklin, 
"who,  like  Joshua  of  old,  commanded  both  sun  and  moon  to 
stand  still,  and  they  obeyed  him." 

But  we  must  not  leave  the  metropolis  of  New  England  without 
one  glance  at  the  Boston  of  to-day.  It  is  a  city  of  very  irregular 
outline,  the  foster-child  of  rivers,  creeks,  bays,  and  inlets,  which 
have  determined  its  wholly  un-American  features.  Its  deep  and 
capacious  harbor  is  lined  with  nearly  two  hundred  wharves,  and 
studded  with  as  many  as  fift}'  picturesque  islands.  Its  streets  are 
well-paved,  clean,  and  admirably  cared  for;  those  of  old  Boston  re- 
taining the  irregularity  of  the  past,  but  now  consisting  of  solid,  if 
old-fashioned,  warehouses,  halls,  and  markets.  The  newer  quarters 
are  laid  out  symmetrically,  long  streets  of  handsome  shops  and  fine 
blocks  of  commercial  offices  giving  upon  excellent,  and  sometimes 
splendid,  residential  districts.  Among  these  rise  numerous  churches 
of  considerable  dignity  and  beauty,  which  more  than  make  amends 
for  the  absence  of  public  buildings  as  important  as  those  of  Wash- 
ington. The  park-like  Common,  dominated  by  the  State-house,  with 
its  high,  gilded  dome,  is  set  like  an  oasis  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
town,  whose  best  streets  are  bordered  with  turf  and  trees,  giving  a 
charm  to  Boston  such  as  no  other  American  city  possesses.  Every- 
where there  reigns  scrupulous  cleanliness  and  perfect  order;  well- 
dressed  people  throng  the  streets  and  crowd  the  remarkably  well- 
appointed  public  vehicles,  the  whole  scene  suggesting  to  an  English 


mmm 


mmmmm 


164 


BOSTON. 


visitor  a  tiny  but  newly  scrubbed  London,  brightened  by  pretty  toi' 
lets,  and  blessed  with  the  atmosphere  of  Italy. 

To  reproduce  the  suburbs,  take  Sydenham,  or,  if  procurable,  some 
yet  cleaner  sliirt  of  London;  shake  its  houses  and  gardens  over  a 
number  of  charming  and  rather  abrupt  hills  which  look  down  upon 
a  city  of  wharves  and  warehouses  indeed,  but  also  upon  a  blue  and 
land-locked  harbor,  dotted  here  and  there  with  grotesque  little 
islands.  Institute  a  great  external  "spring-clean"  of  all  these 
dwellings,  and  then  frame  the  white  results  with  greenery  below 
and  azure  above.  Such  is  the  city  and  such  the  homes  of  Boston, 
where  live  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  people,  the  pick  of  the 
English  race.  In  its  drawing-rooms,  as  in  its  counting-houses  and 
streets,  an  Englishman  feels  that  he  is  at  home,  although  on  the 
farther  side  of  the  Atlantic.  But  he  is  conscious  that  the  condi- 
tions of  life  are  more  inspiring,  that  opinion  is  freer  from  social 
fetters,  and  that  the  intellectual  air,  like  that  of  heaven  itself,  is 
crisper  in  the  capital  of  New  than  of  Old  England. 

And  the  truest  lovers  of  that  dear  Old  England  are  they  who  re- 
joice that  the  possibilities  of  their  race  are  not  to  be  exhausted  in 
the  little  island  which  gave  them  birth.  As  the  men  who  carried 
the  lamp  of  English  liberty  to  Plymouth  Rock  and  Massachusetts 
Bay  were  of  our  best  blood,  so  the  best  of  their  living  English  kin 
are  they  who  love  to  see  that  light  brighten,  and  who  glory  in  its 
widening  spread.  Farewell,  Xew  England!  only  less  dear  than  Old 
England,  whose  son,  if  I  were  not,  then  I  would  be  yours.  God 
speed  your  arduous  work  of  moulding  European  labor  upon  the 
manly  ideals  of  your  fathers ;  Ood  quicken  the  conviction  which 
you  inherit  from  those  fathers  that  upon  the  worth  of  industry 
rests  the  welfare  of  states. 


Chapter  XVIII. 

THE  HUDSON  BIVEB. 

The  work  we  set  ourselves  to  do  is  over;  we  have  seen  the  last 
of  New  England  men  and  New  England  mills,  and  bidden  "God- 
speed "  to  the  transatlantic  alchemist,  leaving  him  busy  at  the  task 
of  transmutation,  "making  Americans"  from  European  materials, 
in  the  alembic  of  common  schools  and  free  institutions.  We  have 
observed  the  present  condition,  noting  its  lights  and  shadows,  and 
tried  to  forecast  the  future  of  labor  in  America;  nor  have  we  shrunk 
from  reasoning  together  concerning  the  fiscal  dangers  of  industry  in 
the  States.  Meanwhile  the  bright  American  summer  has  succeeded 
to  the  sudden  spring,  and  now,  with  its  glorious  sunlight  over  us 
and  glad  greenery  around  us,  our  faces  are  again  turned  homeward. 

Once  more  I  am  leaving  New  York,  bound,  this  time,  for  Quebec, 
and  thence  by  the  Allan  line  of  steamers  to  England,  but  with  time 
enough  on  hand,  before  the  Polyriesian  starts,  to  enjoy  a  leisurely 
sail  up  the  Hudson  River  and  the  trip  by  Lakes  George  and  Cham- 
plain  to  Montreal.  Afterwards  I  will  beg  the  reader's  further  com- 
pany while  we  glance,  in  passing,  at  the  two  chief  Canadian  cities, 
nor  ask  to  say  good-bye  until  the  glorious  St.  Lawrence  has  floated 
us  to  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 

All  the  world  knows  that  the  city  of  New  York  lies  at  the  mouth 
of  the  "Groot  River,"  which  the  navigator  Henry  Hudson  discov- 
ered when  making  his  third  voyage,  on  behalf  of  the  Dutch  East 
India  Company,  in  search  of  a  short-cut  to  India.  This  long-de- 
sired route  he,  for  a  time  indeed,  thought  he  had  found,  as  he  sailed 
in  the  autumn  of  1600  up  the  tidal  reaches  of  the  Hudson.  But  his 
admiration  of  the  fine  lands  on  both  sides  of  the  stream,  "  pleasant 
with  grass  and  flowers  and  goodly  trees,"  whence  friendly  Indians 
brought  grapes,  pumpkins,  and  furs  to  his  ship,  in  canoes  hollowed 
out  of  trees,  was  soon  to  end  in  bitter  disappointment.  After  a 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  hopeful  navigation,  the  water  shallowed 
under  his  keel,  until,  brought  to  a  standstill  by  shoals  at  the  spot 
where  Albany  now  stands,  the  baffled  explorer  turned  back  a  third 
time  from  seeking  a  westward  road  to  the  wealth  of  Ind.  Once 
again  only  was  the  daring  Dutchman  to  attempt  the  realization  of 
thU  dream  of  the  seventeenth  century.    But  his  next  voyage  was 


166 


THE  nUDSOM  RIVER. 


into  the  northern  seas,  where,  in  the  bay  that  bears  his  name,  his  mu- 
tinous crew  set  himself  and  his  son  adrift,  among  floating  ice,  in  a 
small  ship's  boat,  wherein,  ending  life's  voyage  in  company  that  he 
loved,  the  old  viking  drifted  away  to  the  haven  where  he  would  be. 

After  his  discoveries,  Holland  laid  claim  to  all  the  land  along  the 
Groot  River,  calling  the  whole  territory  "  New  Netherlands,"  and 
presently  establishing  at  the  mouth  of  the  stream  the  settlement  of 
"  New  Amsterdam,"  which  had  grown  into  a  considerable  town  be- 
fore it  fell  into  our  hands  and  changed  its  name  to  New  York,  in 
1664.  Meanwhile,  the  Dutch  had  built  several  irading-posts  at  va- 
rious points  on  the  river,  where  they  bought  skins  from  Indian  trap- 
pers, paying  for  these  with  beads,  knives,  and  hatchets. 

We  have  already  seen  how  slowly  the  Dutch  settlers  on  the  Hud- 
son, who  were  traders  rather  than  farmers  by  inclination,  spread 
eastward  from  the  stream  towards  the  New  England  States,  and  how 
the  superior  energy  of  the  £n<;lish  colonists  tended  to  confine  the 
former  to  the  river  banks.  Those  banks  are,  indeed,  still  Dutch  in 
the  names  of  the  towns  which  line  them,  as  these  also  are  Dutch  in 
many  of  their  manners  and  customs.  If  the  "bowery,"  or  country- 
house,  of  the  old  Dutch  trader  has  disappeared,  and  if  he  no  longer 
louugtis  iu  its  "stoop,"  or  porch,  on  moonlit  evenings,  greeting 
passers-by  with  punctilious  politeness,  the  names  "bowery"  atid 
"stoop"  have  nevertheless  become  fused  into  the  speech  of  the 
American  people.  Similarly,  the  Dutchman's  festival  of  Santa  Claus 
and  his  habit  of  giving  Easter  eggs  survive  in  existing  national  cus- 
toms. The  very  "crullers  "  and  " doughnuts "  which  these  lovers 
of  good  cookery  brought  with  them  from  Europe  are  American  del- 
icacies to-day,  although  the  broad-skirted  coats,  with  large  silver 
buttons,  the  knee-breeches  and  eelskin  queues  of  the  men,  the  white- 
muslin  caps,  gayly  colored  petticoats,  bright-green  stockings,  and 
high-heeled  shoes  of  the  women  are  gone. 

But  we  must  not  waste  the  day  talking  of  old  Dutch  times  on  the 
Hudson.  The  whistle  of  our  river  steamer  is  blowing,  we  are  seated 
well  forward,  for  the  sake  of  the  view,  we  know  that  all  the  com- 
forts of  life  are  at  our  command  on  board  this  floating  hotel,  and,  with 
these  resources  of  civilization  at  hand  to  comfort  us  on  the  way,  we 
are  well  content  to  lounge  away  a  long  summer  day  among  some  of 
the  finest  river  scenery  in  the  world. 

The  Hudson  is,  altogether,  rather  more  than  three  hundred  miles 
in  length,  but  is  only  navigable  for  half  that  distance,  the  last  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles  of  its  course  forming  a  tidal  estuary,  although 
presenting  the  appearance  of  a  broad  river.  Leaving  the  wharf,  the 
Vibbard  became  one  of  a  motley  crowd  of  craft,  whose  number  and 
variety  is  a  special  feature  and  one  of  the  great  charms  of  the  Hud- 
son.   Three-storied  ferry-boats  and  snorting  little  tugs,  graceful 


THE  HUDSOK  RIVER. 


167 


•loops  and  schooners,  immense  "tows  "  of  barges,  in  charge  of  large 
paddle-wheel  steamers,  yachts,  fishing  and  pleasure  boats  of  all  de- 
scriptions, make  a  lively  scene  of  the  spacious  bay  into  which  the 
river  widens  opposite  New  York. 

This  bay,  after  a  few  miles,  becomes  a  majestic  stream,  whose  op- 
posite banks  are,  however,  widely  contrasted  in  character.  On  the 
west  rises  a  sheer  wall  of  basaltic  rock,  varying  from  three  to  five 
hundred  feet  in  height,  but  nowhere  more  than  a  mile  in  width. 
About  the  base  of  this  wall  lies  a  talus  of  its  own  d^n$  scantily 
clothed  with  trees,  while  its  summit  is,  here  and  there,  crowned  by 
a  private  residence, or  a  great  hotel.  The  "Palisades,"  as  they  are 
called,  whose  total  length  is  not  less  than  three  hundred  and  fifty 
miles,  extend  for  twenty  miles  along  the  west  bank  of  the  Hudson, 
and  are  only  occasionally  broken  into  detached  pinnacles  or  cleft  by 
a  rare  cascade.  They  are  one  of  the  trap  ridges,  such  as  those  we 
have  already  seen  in  the  Connecticut  valley,  which  everywhere  in- 
trude through  the  triassic  sandstones  of  the  Eastern  States,  and  form 
ranges  of  rampart-like  hills,  having  bold,  columnar  faces  and  long, 
sloping  backs.  While  the  western  shore  thus  consists  of  a  long  and 
frowning  cliff,  the  eastern  bank  of  the  river  exhibits  a  succession  of 
slopes,  worn  by  the  passage  of  glacier  ice  in  azoic  rocks,  which  sink 
in  a  thousand  gentle  curves  to  the  water's  edge,  smiling  with  snug 
villages,  grassy  lawns,  embowered  villas,  and  pretty  cottages,  the 
homes  of  wealth  and  taste. 

We  have  quite  tired  of  the  monotonous  wall  of  the  Palisades  be- 
fore this  at  length  retires  from  the  river  bank  at  a  spot  almost  op- 
posite Sunnyside,  the  home  of  Washington  Irving.  His  cottage  of 
many  gables,  scarcely  seen  for  the  dense  shrubbery  which  surrounds 
it,  was  built  by  one  of  old  "  Silverieg's  "  counsellors,  who,  Dutch- 
man-like, inscribed  the  motto  "  Lust  und  Rust"  over  doors  which 
were  afterwards  to  form  the  subject  of  one  of  Irving's  most  charm- 
ing sketches.  A  few  miles  more  bring  us  to  "  Sleepy  Hollow,  a  lit- 
tle valley  among  high  hills,  which  is  one  of  the  quietest  places  in  the 
world,"  a  retreat  where  one  might  happily  "steal  from  the  world 
and  its  distractions  and  dream  away  the  remnant  of  a  troubled 
life." 

"  Here,  once  on  a  time,  Ichabod  Crane  taught  the  Dutch  urchins 
the  three  elementary  R's,  and,  at  the  same  time,  paid  court  to  the 
fair  Eatrina,  daughter  of  old  Farmer  van  Tassel.  Brom  van  Brunt, 
nicknamed  Brom-Bones,  loved  the  same  maiden,  and  resolved  to 
drive  the  schoolmaster  from  the  village.  One  dark  night,  Ichabod 
started  home  from  Van  Tassel's  in  very  low  spirits.  The  hour  was 
dismal  as  himself.  Far  below  him  the  Hudson  spread  its  dusky 
waste  of  waters,  with  here  and  there  the  tall  mast  of  a  sloop  riding 
quietly  at  anchor  under  the  land.    Now  a  belief  was  extant  in  a 


168 


THE  HUDSON  RIYSIL 


spectre  called  the  Horseman  of  Sleepy  TIoUow,  supposed  to  be  the 
spirit  of  a  Hessian  trooper  whose  head  had  been  carried  off  by  a 
cannon-ball.  Near  the  old  church  this  horrid  ghost  made  its  ap- 
pearance in  pursuit  of  Ichabod,  who  bestrode  an  inflexible  horse 
named  Gunpowder.  The  terrified  schoolmaster  made  all  haste  to 
reach  a  certain  bridge,  passing  which  he  would  be  beyond  the  power 
of  his  pursuer.  He  spurred  old  Gunpowder  forward,  but,  looking 
back,  beheld  the  spectre  close  behind  and  in  the  very  act  of  hurling 
its  head  at  him.  The  crash  came;  Ichabod  rolled  to  the  ground, 
and  both  spectre  and  Gunpowder  rushed  past  him  in  a  whirlwind. 
A  shattered  pumpkin  was  found  in  the  road  next  day,  and  not  long 
afterwards  Brom-Bones  led  Katrina  to  the  altar,  but  Ichabod  was 
seen  no  more." 

Very  near  the  quiet  hollow  where  Irving  liked  to  think  of  dream- 
ing away  his  life  is  a  quaint  iittle  seventeenth-century  Dutch  church, 
the  oldest  religious  ef^iflce  in  the  Stale  of  New  York,  and  here,  on  a 
marble  slab,  may  be  read — 

WASHINGTON, 

BON  or 

WlI.I.IAM   AND  SaKAU  IttVINO, 

Died  November  2S,  ISSD. 

And  that  is  the  grave  of  the  immortal  Geoffrey  Crayon. 

Forty-three  miles  from  New  York  the  steamer  approaches  the 
Highlands,  a  continuation  of  the  Blue  Kidge  mountains  of  Yirgini?. 
which,  entering  New  York  State  from  that  of  New  Jersey,  traverse 
its  southern  extremity  to  join  the  Taconic  range,  of  which  we  saw 
so  much  in  the  earlier  part  of  our  journey.  The  Hudson  meets  the 
Blue  Ridge  almost  at  right  nngles,  and  has  cut  a  passage  througbjt, 
nearly  eighteen  miles  long,  steaming  along  whose  deep  but  narrow 
channel  the  traveller  is  presented  with  a  series  of  mountain  and 
river  views  unrivalled  by  those  of  any  country  in  Europe.  At  the 
entrance  of  the  Highlands,  especially,  stupendous  precipices  rise  im- 
mediately from  the  water,  suggesting,  but  of  course  erroneously, 
that  the  stream  has  violently  torn  asunder  the  rocky  barriers  with 
which  the  hills  once  tried  to  restrain  it. 

The  contrast  presented  to  the  mind  between  the  river,  apparently 
bursting,  in  one  case,  through  a  mountain  barrier  several  miles  in 
breadth,  and  flowing  quietly,  in  the  other,  past  the  basaltic  wall  of 
the  Palisades,  is  very  striking.  But  the  reasons  for  the  existence  of 
that  contrast  are  not  far  to  seek.  The  Blue  Ridge,  as  the  country 
north  of  it  testifies,  was  once  the  southern  boundary  of  a  great  lake, 
which  filled  the  upper  valley  of  the  Hudson  with  a  sheet  of  water  at 
least  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles  long  and  forty  miles  wide.  This 
inland  sea  was  hemmed  ia  by  the  Taconics  on  the  east  and  by  an- 
other Appalachian  fold,  of  which  the  Catskills  form  a  conspicuous 


THE  HUDSOK  BIVEB. 


169 


portion,  on  the  west.  Its  outlet  overflowed  the  crest  of  the  Blue 
Ridge  and  poured  southwards  over  it  in  a  series  of  cascades,  which, 
reaching  the  Hudson  River  of  that  period,  were  carried  with  its 
waters  to  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  As  time  went  on  the  falls  of  the  Blue 
Ridge,  cutting  their  way  backwards,  after  the  manner  of  cataracts, 
severed  the  range,  and  in  this  sense  only  can  the  Hudson  be  said  to 
have  forced  its  way  through  the  eighteen  miles  of  hill-country  in 
question.  The  Palisades,  on  the  other  hand,  having  themselves  a 
southerly  trend,  opposed  no  bar  to  thp  progress  of  the  stream,  for 
which,  indeed,  they  form  a  natural  embankment. 

Among  the  many  high,  forest-covered  hills  that  environ  the  trav- 
eller passing  through  the  Highlands,  one  of  the  highest  is  the  Dun- 
derberg,  or  Thunder  Mountain,  where,  as  Irving  tells,  and  as  every 
Dutch  sailor  used  firmly  to  believe,  dwells  the  storm-goblin  of  the 
Hudson.  "  The  captains  of  river  craft  declare  that  they  have  heard 
him,  in  stormy  weather,  in  the  midst  of  the  turmoil,  giving  orders  in 
Low  Dutch  for  piping  up  a  fresh  gust  of  wind  or  rattling  off  another 
thunder-clap;  that  sometimes,  even,  he  has  been  seen,  surrounded  by 
a  crew  of  imps  in  broad  breeches  and  short  doublets,  tumbling  head 
over  heels  in  the  rack  and  mist,  and  that,  at  such  times,  the  hurry- 
skurry  of  the  storm  was  always  greatest.  Once,  a  sloop,  passing  by 
the  Dunderberg,  was  overtaken  by  a  thunder-gust  that  came  scouring 
round  the  mountain  and  seemed  to  burst  just  over  the  Vessel.  All 
the  crew  were  amazed  when  it  was  discovered  that  there  was  a  little 
white  sugar-loaf  hat  on  the  masthead,  known  at  once  to  be  the  hat 
of  the  Head  of  the  Dunderberg.  Nobody,  however,  dared  climb  to 
the  masthead  and  got  rid  of  this  terrible  hat.  The  sloop  labored 
and  "ocked  as  if  she  would  have  rolled  her  mast  overboard,  and 
seemed  in  continual  danger,  either  of  upsetting  or  running  ashore. 
Thus  she  drove  quite  through  the  Highlands,  until  she  passed  a  cer- 
tain island  where,  it  is  said,  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Dunderberg  po- 
tentate ceases.  No  sooner  had  she  passed  this  bourne  than  the  little 
hat  sprang  up  into  the  air  like  a  top,  whirled  all  the  clouds  up  into 
a  vortex,  and  hurried  them  back  to  the  summit  of  the  Thunder 
Mountain,  wliile  the  sloop  sailed  on  upon  an  even  keel.  Nothing 
saved  her  from  wreck  but  the  fortunate  circumstance  of  having  a 
horseshoe  nailed  to  her  mast,  a  precaution  against  evil  spirits 
adopted  by  «U  Dutch  captains  who  sail  this  haunted  river." 

West  Point,  the  Military  Academy  of  America,  is  situated  among 
scenery  of  the  most  enchanting  description  in  the  very  midst  of  the 
Highlands.  Love  rather  than  war,  however,  might  well  appear  to 
be  the  subject  of  study  at  West  Point,  which  is  the  thcutre,  during 
summer,  of  an  endless  round  of  harmless  dissipations.  Luncheon 
parties  and  picnics  are  the  order  of  the  day,  and  the  woods  are  bright 
with  prstty  bonnets  which  do  not  hide  prettier  faces.    Flirtation 

8 


170 


THE  HUDSON  BIYEn. 


I 


1  t 


Walk,  one  of  the  most  romantic  river-side  paths  it  is  possible  to  im- 
r.f^ne,  is  never  without  more  than  one  pair,  of  ardent  cadet  and  yield- 
ing maiden,  whether  sheltering  among  its  foliage  from  the  mid-day 
sun,  or  watching  the  moonlight  lending  silver  to  the  stream  and  en- 
chanted shadows  to  the  hills. 

But  West  Point  has  known  the  rigors  of  war  as  well  as  the  ameni- 
ties of  peace,  and  was,  indeed,  the  scei;e  of  that  dramatic  incident  of 
the  Revolutionary  War,  the  treason  of  (General  Benedict  Arnold.  In 
the  summer  of  1780  this  officer  was  in  command  of  the  Hudson 
River,  with  his  headquarters  at  West  Point,  then  the  key  of  commu- 
nication between  the  east  and  f;juth,  and  whose  transfer  into  British 
hands  would  have  cut  the  united  colonies  in  two.  This  important 
post  Arnold,  who  had  long  lieen  in  communication  with  Sir  Henry 
Clinton,  the  British  commander,  was  about  treasonably  to  surrender, 
and  would  have  succeedefl  in  doing  so  but  for  a  lucky  accident. 
Three  young  American  militiamen  were  one  day  roaming  in  the 
woods,  over  what  was  called  the  neutral  ground,  when  they  met  a 
man,  coming  from  West  Point,  with  whom  they  stopped  to  parley. 
This  was  no  other  than  Major  Andre,  Clinton's  aide-de-camp,  dressed 
in  plain  clothes,  furnished  with  a  false  name  and  a  pass  from  Gen- 
eral Arnold;  conveying  a  letter  from  the  ktter  to  the  British  head- 
quarters. Supposing  that  his  interlocutors  were  Loyalists,  of  whom 
theie  were  many  in  the  neighborhood,  Andre  did  not  conceal  the 
fact  that  he  was  a  British  officer,  whej-eupon  he  was  immediately 
seized  and  searched.  Arnold's  letter  was  found  in  his  boot,  and 
himself  at  once  marched  to  the  nearest  military  station,  where,  a 
little  later,  he  was  tried  by  court-martial  and  hanged  as  a  spy.  Ar- 
nold, warned  by  friendship  escaped  to  the  British  lines,  and  took  a 
commission  in  the  British  army,  but  the  traitor's  Lame  has  been 
erased  from  the  marble  slab  which  records  the  names  of  the  revolu- 
tionary generals  at  West  P  oint. 

At  Newburgh,  sixty  miles  from  New  York,  the  steamer  leaves  the 
grandeurs  of  the  Highlands  behind  her,  but  scaiv^ely  are  these  lost 
s'o'ht  of  before  the  Catskill  range  comes  into  full  view.  These 
mountains  rise  abruptly  from  a  plain  extending  some  ten  miles  west- 
wards from  the  river  bank,  and  assume  the  form  of  an  amphitheatre, 
whose  walls,  after  scarcely  completing  a  circle,  turn,  one  northwards 
and  one  southwards,  to  form  another  of  the  many  folds  of  the  Alle- 
ghany chain.  This  is  the  very  mountain  hollow  within  whose  pre- 
cipitous sides  the  immortal  Rip  van  Winkle  fell  into  his  long  sleep, 
while  around  and  above  it  rise  the  heights  which  still  echo,  for  those 
who  have  ears  to  hoar,  the  revels  of  Ileinrich  Hudson's  crew  and  the 
roll  of  their  ghostly  bowls.  The  Catskills  come  into,  and  are  lost  to 
view,  again  and  again,  as  the  steamer  proceeas,  their  bastion-like 
profile  tinted  with  heavenly  blue,  and  their  receding  flanks  exhibit- 


THE  HUDSON  KIVEB. 


171 


ing  every  dying  tint  of  aerial  azure  until  they  are  finally  lost  in  the 
hazy  distance. 

From  the  quaint  old  Dutch  town  of  Poughkeepsie,  where  the 
views  of  the  Catskills  are  finest,  to  Albany,  the  river  banks  are  tame, 
in  regard  to  scenery,  but  interesting  by  reason  of  the  many  busy, 
prosperous  towns  which  line  them.  Especially  notable  are  the  great 
ice-houses,  which  become  very  numerous  on  either  bank  during  the 
fatter  half  of  the  trip ;  that  is,  after  the  Hudson  has  become  a  fresh- 
water stream,  or  some  sixty  miles  above  New  York.  Between  this 
point  and  Albany  there  are  nearly  two  hundred  ice-houses,  with  a 
storage  capacity  of  from  five  hundred  lo  sixty  thousand  tons  each, 
and  it  is  from  these  that  the  city  of  New  York,  whose  annual  con- 
suirption  of  ice  is  upwards  of  seven  hundred  thousand  tons  per  an- 
num, is  chiefly  supplied.  The  use  of  ice  in  America  is  carried  to  an 
extent  totally  unknown  in  other  countries,  no  matter  how  hot  their 
summers,  and  the  business  of  ice-collecting  is  conducted  on  a  corre- 
spondingly gigantic  scale.  The  total  annual  ice-crop  of  tlie  States 
is  estimated  at  twenty  miyion  tons,  of  which  the  Hudson  alone  fur- 
nishes about  three  million  tons,  a  quantity  that  could  neither  bo 
gathered,  stored,  nor  distributed  without  the  assistance  of  special 
apparatus. 

Clea  1  as  well  as  clear  ice  is  only  to  be  had  when  the  frozen  surface 
of  the  stream  is  protected  by  a  coating  of  snow.  This,  when  ice- 
harvesting  begins,  is  removed  by  a  machine,  half  scraper,  half 
scoop,  drawn  by  a  horse.  When  an  area  some  five  or  six  hundred 
feet  square  has  been  thus  cleared,  it  is  lightly  scored  across  and 
across,  checker  fashion,  by  means  of  ice-ploughs,  drawn,  like  the 
j.now-scraper,  by  horses.  Other  ice-ploughs  next  deepen  the  scores 
iuto  grooves,  which  penetrate  the  ice  to  two  thirds  of  its  thickness, 
and  leave  the  whole  harvest-field  ready  to  break  up  into  square 
C£.kes  measuring  twenty-two  inches  across.  While  the  ploughing 
is  in  progress  a  channel  is  cut  from  the  field  to  the  ice-house,  and 
the  ice  therein  got  rid  of  by  pressing  it,  a  piece  at  a  time,  below 
the  surface  of  the  water,  when  the  current  carries  it  beneath  the 
main  ice-sheet.  A  way  being  thus  opened  between  the  depot  and 
the  checkered  ice-field,  the  latter  is  sawn  into  "  floats,"  about  twenty 
squares  long  and  fourteen  squares  wide,  which  are  afterwards 
broken  up  into  long  striys,  by  means  of  wedges  applied  to  the 
grooves,  and  floated  iutO  the  channel,  where  they  arc  finally 
separated  into  cakes  by  men  armed  with  chisel-bars.  When  the 
cakes,  pushed  forward  by  the  floats  behind  them,  arrive  at  the  bank, 
they  are  received  upon  an  inclined  steam  elevator,  consisting  of  an 
endless  chain  furnished  with  carriers,  an  arrangement  very  much 
like  that  which  conveys  the  stvaw  from  a  thrashing-machine  to  the 
top  of  the  straw-rick.    The  lower  end  of  the  endless  chain,  with  its 


173 


THE  HUDSON  BIVEB. 


ill 
i'i 


camera,  dips  under  the  surface  of  the  water  below,  while  above  it 
enters  the  top  of  the  ice-house,  into  which  each  cake,  as  it  comes  up 
on  a  carrier,  is  discharged  upon  "slide- ways,"  or  rails  of  gentle 
grade,  adjustable  to  my  desired  spot  within  the  depot.  The  eleva- 
tors, in  some  of  the  largest  estalUishments,  are  capable  of  raising 
fifty  blocks,  of  a  thousand  pounds  each,  per  minute,  or  fifteen 
hundred  tons  of  ice  in  an  hour.  The  ice-houses  are  immense 
wooden  erections,  without  doors  or  windows,  about  a  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  long  and  forty  feet  wide,  each  accompanied  by  a  smaller 
building,  containing  a  steam-engine  for  driving  the  elevator.  The 
cakes  of  ice  are  stoied  with  a  three-inch  space  all  around  them, 
for  the  prevention  of  undue  waste  in  breaking  them  out;  and  after 
the  house  has  been  filled  and  closed,  the  frozen  mass  within  loses 
little  by  melting. 

Summer  hav'ng  now  come,  the  depots,  as  we  passed,  were  busi- 
ly discharging  ice,  by  means  of  "  slide- ways,"  into  big  brown 
barges,  which  convey  it  to  New  York.  These,  when  loaded  with 
cakes,  are  collected  into  "  tows,"  consisting  of  thirty  or  forty  boats, 
arranged  four  deep,  in  a  line,  and  towed  by  very  powerful  paddle- 
wheel  steamers.  Among  the  varied  craft  which  crowds  the  Hudson 
River  there  is  nothing  so  striking  in  appearance  as  these  great  ice- 
tows.  Every  barge  is  the  home  of  a  steersman,  whose  good  wife 
flies  a  number  of  domestic  flags  upon  the  lines  connecting  the  two 
stumpy  masts  of  the  vessel.  In  the  bow  of  each  boat  stands  a 
miniature  windmill,  whose  canvas  sails,  turned  by  the  breeze  which 
the  movement  of  towing  creates,  give  motion  to  a  crank,  and  this  to 
a  pump,  keeping  the  barg«  free  of  such  water  as  drains  from  the  ice- 
cakes.  A  stranger  water-procession  it  is  impossible  to  meet.  First, 
the  high  and  laboring  paddle- wheeler  comes  into  view  from  out  oiE 
the  river  mist,  and,  presently,  separated  from  her  by  the  length  of 
the  scarcely  visible  towing-lines,  the  mass  of  united  barges  steals 
noiselessly  and  gradually  into  sight.  This  has  the  appearance  of  a 
single  strange  and  monstrous  craft,  bending  flexibly  around  every 
curve  of  its  course,  fluttering  with  unknown  bunting,  and  bewilder- 
ing the  eye  with  its  array  of  whirling  wind-sails. 

At  length  we  reached  Albany,  the  point  whence,  less  than  three 
centuries  ago,  Henry  Huds'^n  turned  back  from  his  search  for  the 
road  to  India;  the  capital  of  the  great  state  of  New  York  to-day. 
Being  now  a  bird  of  passage,  tarrying  only  for  an  hour  in  the  city, 
there  is,  of  course,  little  to  be  said  of  its  appearance  and  people.  But 
that  hour  gave  me  time,  and  to  spare,  for  the  discovery  that  some- 
thing other  than  the  width  of  the  Hudson  River  divides  the  Empire 
State  from  New  England ;  that,  as  I  am  much  concerned  to  show, 
there  are  Americans  and  Americans.  In  spite  of  its  splendid  and 
still  rising  State  House,  one  of  the  most  ambitious  public  birMings 


r-^gjg= 


1 


THE  HUDSON  BTVEB. 


173 


in  the  world,  and  which  has  already  absorbed  nearly  two  and  a  half 
millions  sterling,  Albany  proclaims  itself  to  be  without  the  public 
spirit  and  good  municipal  government  of  a  New  England  city.  Its 
streets  are  shamefully  paved  with  rough  bowlders,  its  sidewalks  and 
gutters  are  the  mere  children  of  accident,  and  every  public  roadway 
is  disgracefully  out  of  repair.  Its  shops  are  less  clean  and  respect- 
able in  appearance  than  those  of  any  New  England  town,  as  its 
wayfarers  are  visibly  of  a  lower  grade.  Nothing  in  the  general  ap- 
pearance of  the  town  attracts  the  European  visitor,  while  it  must 
sadly  disappoint  those  whose  ideals  have  been  formed  upon  New 
England  models.  I  was  glad  when  the  train  swept  me  away  from 
the  dirty  railway  depot,  towards  the  clear  waters  and  wooded  shores 
of  Lake  George. 


Chapter  XIX. 

LAKES  OEOBOE  AND  CHAMPLAm. 

In  the  same  year  that  the  Dutch  navigator  ascended  the  Hudson 
to  its  junction  with  the  Mohawlc  River,  Samuel  Champlain,  the 
famous  French  explorer,  first  made  his  way  from  Quebec  to  the 
lake  which  bears  his  name.  From  its  southern  extremity  he  saw  the 
smaller  sheet  of  water  now  called  Lake  George,  which,  howtver, 
was  not  visited  by  a  white  man  until  three  years  later.  Could 
Champlain  and  Hudson  have  pushed,  the  one  forty  miles  farther 
south,  the  other  forty  miles  farther  north,  France  and  Holland 
would  have  met  at  the  head  of  Lake  George,  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years  before  this  spot  saw  the  decisive  battle  which,  after  nearly 
seventy  years  of  desultory  warfare  between  England  and  France, 
prepared  the  way  for  the  supremacy  of  the  former  in  the  New 
World.  But  Holland  had  been  pushed  aside  by  England  almost  a 
century  before  the  forces  of  those  two  countries  advanced,  each  with 
their  savage  allies,  to  meet  in  the  death  grip  which  was  only  relaxed 
on  the  heights  of  Abraham. 

The  terrible  French  and  Indian  wars  of  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries,  whose  cause  has  already  been  alluded  to,  and 
some  of  whose  incidents  related,  came  about  in  the  following  way. 
As  the  New  England  settlers  Increased  in  numbers  the  native  tribes 
steadily  diminished,  so  that,  in  the  last  quarter  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  the  whites  largely  outnumbered  the  native  races.  The  latter 
were  no  match  for  the  well-armed  English,  and,  as  one  quarrel  after 
another  arose,  the  redskins  were  pushed  farther  backwards,  until 
their  territories  became  diminished,  whether  by  treaties  or  seizures 
after  war,  to  mere  strips  of  land.  Meanwhile  the  French,  who  had 
long  been  settled  in  Canada,  or  "  The  New  France,"  having  explored 
the  Great  Lakes,  traversed  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  rivers,  together 
with  lakes  George  and  Champlain,  claimed  all  the  vast  internal  re- 
gion from  the  St.  Lawrence  to  the  Gulf.  They  were  quite  as  anxious 
as  the  Indians  to  confine  the  English  to  the  strip  of  land  bordering 
on  th«  Atlantic,  which  alone  their  colonics  occupied;  and  their  mis- 
sionaries and  traders  were  very  successful  in  cultivating  friendly  re- 
lations with  the  redskins.  Hence,  when  the  latter,  beginning  to  find 
the  pressure  of  the  English  intolerable,  turned  to  France  for  assist- 
ance, the  settlers  of  Canada  were  only  too  willing  to  givc'it.    The 


LAKES  GEORGE  AND  CHAMFLAIN. 


175 


wisest  Indians,  indeed,  foresaw  that  the  Frenqh  and  English  would 
prove,  each  the  edge  of  a  paii  of  shears  that  would  finally  cut  their 
possessions  into  ribbons,  but  the  majority  welcomed  French  assist- 
ance with  eagerness. 

This  led  to  a  series  of  wars,  which,  although  termed  Indian,  and 
called  by  a  variety  of  names,  such  as  King  William's  War  (1680), 
Queen  Anne's  War  (1702),  King  George's  War  (1744),  and,  finally, 
the  Old  French  and  Indian  War  (1755-63),  were  really  one  long  war, 
whose  object  was  to  determine  whether  the  French  or  the  English 
should  be  supreme  in  America.  It  was  during  the  second  of  these 
contests  that,  as  already  related,  the  French  and  Indians  attacked 
the  town  of  Deerfield,  and  the  dreadful  incidents  of  this  story  might 
serve,  names  only  being  changed,  to  cliaracterize  all  these  terrible 
wars. 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  how  such  tales,  repeated  by  fathers  to  children 
at  every  colonial  fireside,  inflamed  the  hatred  with  which  the  white 
man  regarded  the  redskin,  and  how  this  hatred  became  extended  to 
the  Canadian  French,  who  aided  the  Indians  in  their  attacks.  So 
great  was  the  interruption  which  these  savage  raids  caused  to  the 
ordinary  pursuits  of  life,  that  the  colonists  were  always  ready  to 
back  the  government  in  sending  expeditions  against  the  French 
in  Canada,  so  as  to  keep  them  busy  defending  themselves.  Thus,  in 
1745,  the  Massachusetts  colony  fitted  out  an  expedition,  in  which 
four  thousand  men  took  part,  leaving  their  wives  and  children  to 
plant  the  fields  in  their  absence.  Their  object  was  to  attack  the 
French  fortress  of  Louisburg,  on  Cape  Breton,  a  position  whose 
strength  had  gained  for  it  the  name  of  the  "  Gibraltar  of  America." 
Spite  of  its  daring  character,  the  enterprise  was  completely  success- 
ful, and,  after  a  siege  of  fifty  days,  Louisburg  was  lost  to  France. 

It  happened,  very  fortunately  for  the  colonists,  that,  while  the 
Indians  of  the  northwest  were  all  allies  of  the  French,  certain  powerful 
tribes,  who  lived  west  of  the  Hudson  River,  had  long  been  their 
friends,  and  hostile  to  their  Canadian  rivals.  These  Iroquois,  as  the 
French,  or  Maquas,  as  the  Dutch  called  them,  were  really  a  con- 
federacy of  five  nations,  the  Mohawks,  Oneidas,  Onondagas,Cayugas, 
and  Senecas,  who,  being  afterwards  joined  by  the  Tuscaroras,  came 
to  be  known  as  the  "  Six  Nations."  In  1754,  the  governor  of  the 
colonies,  acting  under  the  instructions  of  the  English  government, 
summoned  delegates  from  all  these  tribes  to  Albany,  where  a  treaty 
was  made  with  them,  having  for  its  object  mutual  defence  against 
the  French.  Benjamin  Fruuklin  took  advantage  of  this  congress 
to  propose  a  plan  of  union  to  the  colonies  themselves,  pointing  out 
that  the  French,  being  imder  one  government,  while  the  colonies 
were  thirteen  in  number,  were  much  more  powerful  than  they  on 
that  account.    But  the  men  whom  he  addressed  were  not  yet  ripe 


176 


LAKES  GEORGE  AND  CHAMPLAIN. 


■tij 


!:  ,  ' 


for  union,  although  quite  ready  to  combine  for  the  purpose  of  fight- 
ing the  French.  War  was  accordingly  declared, and  the  "Old 
French  and  Indian"  cajnpaign  opened  in  1755,  to  be  renewed  with 
every  succeeding  year  until  the  French  had  been  driven  from  the 
Ohio,  by  Washington;  from  lakes  George  and  Champlain,  by 
Generals  Johnson  and  Lyman,  and,  lastly,  from  Quebec,  by  Wolfe, 
with  the  loss  of  which  fortress  passed  away,  forever,  the  last  hope 
of  France  for  the  supremacy  of  the  New  World. 

From  its  discovery  by  Champlain  down  to  the  beginning  of  this 
war,  or  for  a  period  of  rather  more  than  a  hundred  years,  the  whole 
region  extending  from  the  St.  Lawrence  to  the  Hudson  was  practi- 
cally left  in  the  undisturbed  possession  of  the  red  man.  The  two 
lakes,  stretching  north  and  south,  formed  a  pathway  through  the 
wilderness  for  the  canoes  of  tribes  who  were  constantly  at  war  with 
each  other,  and  whose  destructive  raids,  sparing  nothing  in  their 
course,  drove  away  all  who  were  inclined  to  occupy  the  country. 
Lake  George,  indeed,  had  never  been  visited  by  a  white  man  until 
1642,  and  was  then  only  seen  by  Father  Jaques,  a  Jesuit  priest,  and 
two  other  Frenchmen,  all  being  prisoners  in  the  hands  of  a  party  of 
Iroquois,  returning  to  their  home  on  the  Mohawk  after  an  attack 
upon  their  northern  foes.  Four  years  afterwards,  being  then  free. 
Father  Jaques  returned  to  the  lake,  accompanied  by  Bourdon,  the 
engineer-in-chief  to  the  governor  of  Quebec,  and  six  friendly  Indians. 
They  took  possession  of  the,  as  yet,  unexplored  sheet  of  water  on 
behalf  of  France,  calling  it  Le  Lac  du  Saint-Sacrament,  a  name 
which  it  bore  for  rather  more  than  a  century,  or  until  after  the  bat- 
tle of  Lake  George,  in  1755,  when  the  victorious  General  Johnson 
changed  its  name  to  that  of  the  reigning  British  king.  But  before 
this,  in  1731,  while  the  tribes  were  temporarily  at  peace,  the  French 
had  advanced  to  Crown  Point,  near  the  southern  extremity  of  Lako 
Champlain,  and  built  a  fort,  which  they  called  Frederic.  This  was 
an  encroachment  on  the  territory  of  the  Five  Nations,  who  claimed 
all  the  country  lying  along  the  lakes,  country  of  which  Cbamplain's 
discovery  could  not,  in  their  opinion,  dispossess  them. 

Although  not  yet  the  formal  allies  of  Great  Britain,  these  tribes  ac- 
knowledged the  sovereignty  and  considered  themselves  under  the 
protection  of  the  King  of  England,  so  that  the  colonists  made  a 
strong  protest  against  this  act  of  the  French,  but  took  no  further 
steps,  at  that  time,  to  enforce  the  rights  of  their  Indian  friends.  In 
1755,  however,  the  English,  as  we  have  seen,  felt  that  something  must 
be  done  to  break  through  the  barrier  which  France  was  always 
strengthening  against  their  westward  expansion.  War  was  accord- 
ingly declared,  and  the  opening  scenes  of  the  campaign  decided  upon 
at  Albany  took  place  on  Lake  Georgj,  about  whose  natural  features 
something  must  be  said  before  we  follow  the  flag  of  England  to  its 
first  victory  in  this  momentous  struggle. 


LAKES  OEOROB  AND  CHAMPLAIK. 


177 


It  is  but  a  short  journey  from  Albany  to  the  head  of  Lake  George, 
the  railway  following  the  upper  reaches  of  the  Hudson  as  far  as 
Glen's  Falls,  where  the  river  makes  a  sharp  westward  turn  and  soon 
after  becomes  a, mountain  stream,  whose  sources  must  be  sought  in 
the  Adirondack  wilderness.  Glen's  Falls  is  full  of  great  sawmills, 
and  the  centre  of  an  immense  trade  in  timber,  of  which  enough  is 
cut  here  annually  to  girdle  the  earth  with  deal  boards.  Lumbering 
parties  ply  the  axe,  during  the  winter  months,  on  all  the  streams 
which  are  tributary  to  the  Hudson  above  this  point,  piling  vast  num- 
bers of  logs  on  their  banks  for  the  freshets  of  the  following  spring  to 
carry  to  the  "Big  Boom"  which  bars  the  main  stream  at  Glen's 
Falls.  Here  the  river  is  sometimes  quite  full  of  logs  for  a  distance 
of  four  or  five  miles  behind  the  boom,  and  presents  an  extraordinary 
appearance  to  unaccustomed  eyes. 

Lake  George  is  nine  miles  north  of  Glen's  Falls,  situated  at  the 
southwestern  margin  of  the  Adirondack  wilderness,  and  lying  upon 
the  watershed  of  the  country  separating  the  Hudson  and  St.  Law- 
rence. It  is  thirty-four  miles  long  and  varies  from  one  to  four  miles 
in  width,  while  it  becomes  very  narrow  and  river-like  in  appearance 
just  before  emptying  itself  into  Lake  Champlain,  which  is  some  three 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  below  its  level.  Its  water  is  perfectly  pure 
and  pellucid,  of  a  bright  blue  color,  and  sixty  fathoms  deep  in  the 
deepest  parts  of  the  lake.  It  is  closely  hemmed  in  by  mountains 
which  are  densely  clothed  with  forest,  and  rise,  for  the  most  part, 
abruptly  from  the  water  to  heights  of  one  thousand  five  hundred  or 
two  thousand  feet.  The  lake  contains  as  many  islands  as  there  are 
days  in  the  year,  so,  at  least,  says  the  popular  voice,  and  these  vary  in 
size  from  mere  rocks  to  half  a  mile  in  length.  Some  are  bare,  while 
others  are  covered  with  foliage,  but  all  of  them  are  conspicuously 
ice-ground,  the  smaller  islands  looking  just  like  whales'  backs  appear- 
ing above  the  surface  of  the  water.  Wherever  the  banks  rise  with 
suflBciently  gentle  slopes  from  the  water,  as  well  as  upon  many  of  the 
larger  islands,  the  summer  residences  of  wealth  and  refinement  give 
a  most  agreeable  air  to  a  prospect  which,  without  these,  would  bo 
beautiful,  indeed,  but  entirely  primitive  in  its  character.  Only  the 
head  of  the  lake  offers  any  cultivable  soil  to  settlers  ;  its  mountain 
flanks  being  without  those  terraces  of  drift  soils  which  line  the  sides 
of  every  river  valley  in  New  England.  The  forest,  accordingly, 
feeds  only  upon  such  'scanty  debris  as  the  slow  decomposition  of 
gneiss  and  schist  affords,  and  roots  are  seen  penetrating  into  crevices 
and  clinging  around  rocks  which  are,  apparently,  incapable  of  nour- 
ishing anything  but  lichens  and  mosses.  Hence  there  are  no  cleared 
settlements  on  Lake  George,  whose  shores,  but  for  the  summer  homes 
in  question,  would  be  as  complete  a  wilderness  to-day  as  when  they 
were  trodden  only  by  the  foot  of  the  redskin. 

8* 


178 


LAKES  OEOROE  AND  CHAMPLAIN. 


Around  the  licad  of  the  lake  arc  a  number  of  excellent  hotels, 
which  are  crowded  by  holiday-visitors  during  the  summer  heats. 
The  largest  of  these,  named  Fort  William  Henry,  after  the  little 
stronghold,  of  which  more  hereafter,  is  capable  of  sleeping  six  hun- 
dred guests,  and  its  broad  balcony,  looking  right  down  the  narrow, 
mountain-girt  stream,  affords  one  of  the  best  possible  views  of  a  scene 
that  reminds  the  English  tourist  of  Loch  Katrine.  Immediately  be- 
hind the  hotel  stands  Mount  Prospect,  whose  sumn^it,  eighteen  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  lake,  is  easily  reached  by  following  a  wagon- 
road  leading  to  a  small  summer  resort,  perched  at  the  summit  for  the 
accommodation  of  those  who  desire  to  spend  their  vacation  in  keen 
and  bracing  air. 

Thence  the  view,  if  it  commands  a  wilderness,  is  extensive  and 
impressive.  Southward,  the  Hudson  River  winds  in  grand  bends 
through  a  fiat,  drift-covered  country,  the  old  bed  of  that  great  lake 
already  referred  to  as  having  at  some  former  period  occupied  the 
valley  of  the  upper  Hudson.  On  either  side  of  this  ancient  lake- 
bottom  rise  the  ranges  that  have  already  been  described  as  forming 
its  lateral  boundaries,  which,  together  with  the  flat  country  they  en- 
close, recede  southward  until  they  are  lost  to  sight  in  the  hazy  dis- 
tance. Here  and  there  a  bend  of  the  Hudson  introduces  a  shining 
line  into  the  otherwise  monotonous  landscape,  while  the  "Big 
Boom  "  of  Glen's  Falls  is  plainly  to  be  made  out  by  the  curving  mass 
of  logs  which  obscurfis  the  glitter  of  the  stream  at  this  point.  Look- 
ing west,  the  eye  roams  over  the  Adirondacks,  a  confused  tumble  of 
high,  forest-clad  mountains,  and  a  region  which,  although  within  the 
confines  of  New  York  State,  remains,  as  yet,  completely  untouched 
by  civilization,  unless  the  sportsman,  seeking  his  game  there,  among 
an  endless  succession  of  lakes,  may  be  considered  as  its  forerunner. 
Northward,  the  narrow  lalfe  threads  dark,  embowered  hills  with  a 
line  of  silver,  which  carries  the  eye  onwards  to  a  cross  range  of  far- 
distant  mountains,  bounding  the  southern  shores  of  the  St.  Lawrence 
with  a  serrated  wall  of  heavenly  blue.  Eastward,  the  lake,  with  the 
hotels  and  houses  circling  its  beach-fringed  head,  lies  at  the  specta- 
tor's feet,  while  over  the  feathered  crest  of  its  farther  shore  peep  the 
hazy  outlines  of  the  Green  Mountain  range. 

The  path  to  the  summit  of  Mount  Prospect  affords  a  pleasant 
glimpse  into  the  inner  life  of  those  dense  woods  of  spruce  and  ma- 
ple, birch  and  chestnut,  which  have  succeeded  to  the  primeval  forests 
of  pine  that  covered  all  Eastern  America  before  man  made  his  ap- 
pearance on  the  scene  with  fire  and  axe.  The  day  was  sunny,  and 
the  air  of  the  open  wagon-road  seemed,  at  times,  alive  with  butter- 
flies, moths,  and  other  insects,  some  of  which  latter,  indeed,  could 
have  been  advantageously  spared.  The  beautiful  "swallowtail" 
{MaeJuwn)  was  very  abundant,  rising  by  hundreds  at  my  approach, 


LAKES  GEORGE  AND  CHAMPLAIN. 


179 


from  any  little  patch  of  moisture  on  the  road,  and  seeming,  bo  great 
were  their  numbers,  to  come  out  of  the  earth  itself.  With  them 
were  associated  a  few  "  Camberwell  Beauties,"  while,  fluttering  over 
the  low  banks  on  both  sides  of  the  way,  were  thousands  of  a  beauti- 
ful black-and-white  moth,  whose  name  I  do  not  know. 

The  shrubby  undergrowth  among  the  trees  was  gay  with  pink 
columbine  (Aquilegia),  yellow  potentillas,  and  the  white,  star-like 
blooms  of  the  "bunch-berry,"  a  species  of  rnbus  that  abounds  in 
every  clearing.  Scarcely  less  conspicuous  was  the  liliaceous  Smili- 
cina,  whose  pretty  blooms  arc  like  a  tiny  "  meadow-sweet."  Every 
patch  of  sandy  soil  was  crowded  with  the  king  fern  (^Oamunda  re- 
galis),  while  the  no  less  beautiful  Oamunda  interrvpta  was  almost 
equally  plentiful.  The  woods  themselves  were  lighted  up  here  and 
there  by  the  little  Star  of  Bethlehem  (Tnentalia  anemosum),  the  bell- 
wort  {Uvulana  semlifoUa)  and  a  "Lord  and  Lady,"  quite  different 
from  ours,  called  Arum  triphyllum;  while  more  than  one  of  the 
lovely  orchids  wo  name  lady's-slipper  (Cppripedlum)  occurred  in 
the  course  of  the  walk.  The  bed-rock  of  the  mountain,  here  of 
gneiss,  there  of  a  garnet-bearing  schist,  had  some  difficulty  in  show- 
ing itself  through  a  covering  of  drift,  which  was  closely  stuffed  with 
travelled  bowlders  of  all  sizes. 

Passing,  in  the  midst  of  this  primitive  wilderness,  a  solitary  log- 
house,  I  saw  a  strapping  young  farmer,  manfully  battling,  plough  in 
hand,  for  the  redemption  of  a  tiny  patch  of  land  from  rocks  and  for- 
est. The  task,  to  my  uneducated  eye,  seemed  entirely  superhuman, 
and  the  man  a  very  hero.  Such  soil  as  he  had  already  turned  was 
black  aad  sour-looking,  encumbered  with  great  stones,  and  choked 
with  the  roots  of  trees.  The  rough  surface  looked  still  more  unin- 
viting from  the  charred  trunks  which  lay,  here  and  there,  upon  it, 
and  Nature  herself  seemed  to  forbid  the  idea  that  this  could  ever  be- 
come a  seed-bed.  Such  was  the  ground  which,  hopeless  as  the  at- 
tempt seems  to  a  layman,  the  farmers  of  New  England  have  con- 
verted from  a  wilderness  into  wheat-fields. 

Smile  as  the  forest  may,  bordering  a  road  cleared  through  its  re- 
cesses, it  puts  on  another  aspect  as  soon  us  that  road  is  left.  Re- 
turning from  Mount  Prospect.  I  ventured  to  follow  what  was  de- 
scribed to  me  as  a  conspicuous  trail,  leading  directly  through  the 
woods  to  Fort  William  Henry,  and  saving  more  than  half  the  dis- 
tance I  had  traversed  in  the  ascent.  Here,  after  a  few  minutes,  in- 
judiciously hunting  the  lady's-slipper,  I  became  hopelessly  lost, 
and  had  I  not  taken  a  bearing  with  a  pocket  compass  before  starting, 
might  easily  have  wandered  for  hours  in  the  wrong  direction,  to  find 
myself  turned  aside  again  and  again  by  crags,  in  trying  to  get  to  the 
bottom  of  the  hill.  Fortunately,  the  magnet  set  me  once  more  in 
the  path  within  half  an  hour,  a  sufficient  experience  of  forest  walk- 


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180 


LAKES  GEORGE  AIO)  CSAMPLAIN. 


ing  for  any  one  wishing  to  appear  in  a  costume  more  becoming  than 
rags  at  the  evening  table  d'hvte.  Such,  however,  matching  the  char- 
acter of  the  soil  he  tilled,  was  the  country  hemming  in  the  early  set- 
tler on  every  side,  and  such  too  was  the  ground  over  which  we  left 
the  soldiers  of  civilization  and  savagery  marching  in  company  to  be- 
gin the  encounter  which  was  to  end,  a  few  years  later,  in  the  com- 
plete discomfiture  of  France. 

The  "something"  which  the  English,  assembled  at  the  Albany 
conference,  felt  called  upon  to  do,  they  set  about  accomplishing  as 
follows.  In  the  summer  of  1765  they  built  a  fort  a  few  miles  south 
of  Lake  Gkorge,  then  called  the  Lac  du  Saint-Sacrament,  upon  the 
spot  already  mentioned  as  that  where  the  Hudson  bends  suddenly 
westward,  and  very  near  01en!s  Falls.  From  this  rude  stronghold, 
then  called  Fort  Lyman,  after  the  officer  who  had  raised  it,  but  after- 
wards known  as  Fort  Edward,  General  Johnson,  the  commander  of 
the  provincial  troops,  advanced  with  an  army  to  the  head  of  Lake 
George.  His  plan  was  to  go  down  the  lake  with  half  his  force, 
which  included  a  number  of  Indians  led  by  a  famous  old  Mohawk 
chief  called  Hendrick,  to  intrench  himself  at  Ticonderoga;  the  nar- 
row strip  of  land  between  lakes  (George  and  Champlain,  to  wait 
there  until  the  rest  of  the  army  could  be  brought  down  to  join  him, 
and  then  to  attack  Fort  Frederic,  the  position  which,  as  we  have  al- 
ready seen,  had  been  taken  up  by  the  French  on  Champlain. 

But  while  he  was  preparing  to  move,  Vaudreuil,  the  Governor- 
General  of  Canada,  hearing  that  a  considerable  body  of  men  was  as- 
sembling at  the  head  of  Lake  George,  and  fearing  that  a  successful 
attack  upon  Frederic  might  be  followed  by  the  invasion  of  Canada, 
sent  the  Baron  de  Dieskau,  with  a  mixed  force  of  French  soldiers, 
Canadians,  and  Indians,  to  meet  him.  This  officer  waited  at  Fort 
Frederic  some  time  for  the  arrival  of  the  English,  but  finding  no 
prospect  of  their  approach,  determined  to  go  and  seek  them.  Ac- 
cordingly, embarking  with  two  thousand  men,  he  sailed  to  the  south- 
ern extremity  of  Lake  Champlain,  which,  on  the  farther  side  of  the 
range  forming  the  eastern  shore  of  Lake  George,  overlaps  nearly  the 
whole  length  of  the  latter  lake. 

Upon  his  arrival  there,  an  English  prisoner,  taken  by  his  scouts, 
informed  him  that  Fort  Lyman  was  unfinished  and  without  cannon, 
and  that  Johnson  was  lying  at  the  head  of  the  lake  intrenched,  and 
also  without  artillery.  Being  wHhin  striking  distance  of  either  point, 
he  at  once  determined  to  attack  the  fort,  whose  capture  would  cut 
Johnson  off  from  his  supplies  and  compel  him  either  to  return,  only 
to  find  Dieskau  in  a  strong  intrenched  position,  or  to  surrender  at 
discretion.  But  the  French  commander's  troops,  consisting  largely . 
of  Canadians  and  Indians,  were  totally  unable  to  comprehend  even ' 
Buch  simple  tactics  as  these,  and  were,  besides,  suspicious  that  the 


LAKES  GEORGE  AND  CHAMPLAIN. 


181 


/•/ 


fort  was,  after  all,  defended  by  cannon,  of  which  both  Canadians  and 
Indians  had  a  peculiar  dread.  In  vain  did  Dieskau  attempt  to  over- 
come their  reluctance  to  be  led  against  Fort  Lyman,  so,  having  no 
alternative  but  to  attack  Johnson  or  retreat,  he  chose  the  former 
course,  and  marched  his  army  towards  the  head  of  Lake  George. 

Apprised  by  his  scouts  of  the  presence  of  the  French  in  force, 
Johnson  warned  Colonel  Blanchnrd,  who  was  in  charge  of  Fort  Ed- 
ward, by  messengers,  of  his  danger,  and,  after  a  council  of  war,  de- 
termined to  attack  Dieskau's  advancing  army.  Accordingly,  he  de- 
tached a  party,  consisting  of  twelve  hundred  men,  commanded  by 
the  Colonel  Williams  whom  wc  know  as  the  founder  of  Williams 
College,  and  comprising  a  number  of  Indians  under  the  leadership 
of  old  Hendrick.  Scarcely  had  they  started  than  Johnson  began  to 
intrench  himself  on  the  spot  where  the  hotel,  called  Fort  William 
Henry,  after  the  English  work,  is  now  situated.  Meanwhile,  Dies- 
kau prepared  to  receive  Williams  by  extending  his  troops  in  the  form 
of  a  crescent  moon,  whose  horns  were  hidden  from  sight  by  the 
thick  forest  which  covered  all  the  country.  Into  the  very  hollow 
of  this  half-moon  did  Williams  march  his  whole  company,  only  to 
find  himself  exposed  to  a  mysketry  fire  which  galled  his  front  and 
both  his  flanks  at  the  same  moment.  The  English  fell  in  heaps, 
Williams  and  Hendrick  being  among  the  first  to  drop,  and,  but  for 
the  skill  with  which  Colonel  Whiting,  succeeding  to  the  command, 
organized  and  carried  out  the  retreat,  the  whole  party  would  have 
perished.  He,  however,  fell  back  in  fair  order  upon  Johnson's  sup- 
I)orts,  and,  the  latter  having  in  the  meantime  constructed  a  tolerable 
shelter  of  logs  and  sand,  this  received  the  broken  English  before  they 
had  become  demoralized. 

Dieskau,  however,  was  not  slow  to  follow  up  his  advantage,  and, 
after  collecting  his  widely  spread  wings,  marched  to  the  attack  of 
Johnson's  now  intrenched  position.  But  the  fortune  of  war  had 
already  changed  sides.  The  English  retreat  was  orderly,  and  the 
men,  as  they  tumbled  in  over  Johnson's  breastwork,  were  easily  ral- 
lied behind  it.  Dieskau  himself,  after  opening  fire  at  a  distance 
which  rendered  musket-balln  harmless,  halted  his  troops  for  some, 
time,  while  he  threw  his  Indians  out  into  the  forest  with  a  view  of 
flanking  the  intrenchment  on  either  side.  This  delay  gave  the  fugi- 
tives time  to  recover  themselves,  while  the  French  general's  move- 
ment, being  discovered,  was  easily  defeated  by  a  few  discharges  of 
grape  showered  among  the  flankers,  who,  being  Indians  and  dread- 
ing artillery,  at  once  fled. 

The  frontal  attack,  although  prolonged  for  five  hours,  proved  a 
failure,  and  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  English  and  Indians  to- 
gether leaped  over  the  breastwork  and  charged  the  enemy.  They 
fled  and  were  vigorously  pursued  for  a  short  distance,  but  Johnson, 


182 


LAKES  OEOROB  AND  CHAMFLAIK. 


\irho  was  indeed  wounded,  showed  no  energy  in  following  up  a  vic- 
tory which  had  really  been  won  by  General  Lyman,  on  whom  the 
command  had  devolved  very  early  in  the  day.  Dieskau,  an  able  and 
gallant  soldier,  was  also  wounded,  and  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
English,  while,  of  the  two  thousand  men  whom  he  led  to  the  attack, 
it  is  said  that  scarcely  more  than  a  thousand  escaped  wounds  or 
death.  These,  on  their  retreat,  were  met  by  a  small  party  of  colonial 
soldiers,  about  two  miles  from  the  battle-field,  and  defeated  with  the 
loss  of  aJl  their  baggage  and  artillery.  Thus  ended  the  battle  of  Lake 
Gkorge,  an  engagement  small  in  the  number  of  the  forces  employed, 
but  great  in  its  effect  upon  the  feeling  of  the  country,  which,  for  the 
first  time,  began  to  believe  that  the  tide  had  turned,  and  that  the 
power  of  France  in  North  America  was  about  to  ebb. 

Two  years  later,  indeed,  the  great  Montcalm  himself  attacked  and, 
after  a  siege  of  six  days,  succeeded  in  wresting  Fort  William  Henry 
from  the  English,  who,  though  vastly  outnumbered,  terminated  a 
gallant  defence  by  an  honorable  capitulation.  But  the  French  gen- 
eral, to  his  eternal  disgrace,  took  no  proper  care  that  the  terms  of 
this  surrender  should  be  observed.  His  savage  allies  were  permitted 
to  butcher  the  sick  and  wounded  as  they  were  passing  out  of  the 
fort,  while  the  fort  itself  wad  burned  and  many  of  its  brave  defenders 
thrown  alive  into  the  flames.  An  escort  of  only  three  hundred  men 
was  provided  to  guard  the  prisoners  of  wat,  who  were  accordingly 
slain  on  the  march  to  Quebec,  men,  women,  and  children,  to  the  num- 
ber of  fifteen  hundred,  by  the  Indians,  who  swarmed  in  the  woods 
bordering  their  route.  Eager  to  revenge  this  massacre,  the  English, 
in  1758,  despatched  Abercrombie,  with  fifteen  thousand  troops,  for  the 
purpose  of  driving  the  French  from  Ticonderoga  and  Fort  Frederic; 
but  he  failed  utterly  and  ingloriously  of  his  object  from  want  of  mil- 
itary skill.  Finally,  it  was  left  for  Amherst  to  reduce  both  these 
places  in  the  following  year,  and  thus  to  break,  forever,  the  hold  of 
France  on  the  lakes. 

It  is  difficult  to  imagine  any  two  contiguous  sheets  of  water  more 
unlike  than  lakes  George  and  Champlain.  The  latter  extends, 
northward  from  its  fellow,  to  St.  John,  in  Canada,  a  distance  of  two 
'hundred  miles.  Its  least  breadth  is  half  a  mile,  and  its  greatest 
eighteen  miles.  Its  upper  end  is  narrow  and  shallow,  containing 
clay-discolored  water,  which,  however,  becomes  suddenly  deep  and 
clear  at  Crown  Point,  where  the  banks  recede  from  each  other  some 
four  or  five  miles.  Thence,  northwards,  its  depth  is  considerable, 
and  its  average  width  is  from  ten  to  twelve  miles. 

While  the  mountaios  hemming  in  Lake  George  rise,  as  we  have 
seen,  abruptly  from  its  waters,  and  are  entirely  free  from  those  ter- 
raced deposits  of  drift  soils  which  have  so  frequently  challenged  our 
attention,  the  flanks  of  Champlain  are  of  an  entirely  different  char- 


LAKES  GBOBGB  AND  CHAMPLAIN. 


188 


acter.  These  consist  of  level  terraces  of  clay  and  alluvium,  which 
extend  for  many  miles  back  from  the  margin  of  the  lake,  and  are 
covered  with  cropping  of  various  kinds.  Their  widely  receding 
flats  have  already  become  partially  lost  to  sight  in  the  haze  of  dis- 
tance before  there  rise  from  them,  on  the  east,  the  Green  Mountain 
range,  here  displaying  its  loftiest  summits,  and  on  the  west  the  high 
snd  tumbled  masses  of  the  Adirondacks,  the  beauties  of  both  range 
and  wilderness  being  half  hidden,  half  enhanced,  by  the  gauzy  veils 
of  azure  which  they  wear. 

The  Champlain  of  to-day  is,  quite  evidently,  only  a  meagre  rem- 
nant of  a  sheet  of  water  formerly  vast  as  an  inland  sea,  and,  indeed, 
there  is  evidence  to  show  that  it  was  once  an  arm  of  the  Atlantic 
itself.  Marine  shells  are  found  abundantly  in  its  clays,  which  have 
also  yielded  the  remains  of  whales,  sufficiently  proving  that  at  some 
former  time  the  whole  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  together  with  the 
Champlain  basin,  was  an  inland  extension  of  the  ocean — an  Ameri- 
can Mediterranean.  Lake  George,  standing  three  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  above  the  level  of  this  estuary,  was  never  overflowed,  an '  hence 
the  absence  from  it  of  any  such  deposits  as  the  Champlain  clays,  and 
the  difference  in  the  appearance  of  the  two  sheets  of  water. 

It  is  time  to  ask,  more  particularly  than  we  have  yet  done,  what 
was  the  origin  of  those  terraces  of  alluvium  of  which,  sometimes 
one,  sometimes  many  successively,  rise  upon  the  flanks  of  almost 
every  lake  or  stream  in  northern  North  America  ?  But  the  answer 
to  this  question  is  too  long  to  be  included  in  an  already  overlong 
chapter,  while  the  problem  itself  can  best  be  discussed  in  presence 
of  the  splendid  illustrations  furnished  by  Canada  to  the  wonderful 
story  of  the  "Great  Ice  Age,"  of  which  the  phenomena  of  the 
" Champlain  period"  formed  the  closing  incidents. 


Chafteb  XX, 

CANADA,  PRESENT  AND  PAST. 

MoNTBEAL  is  reached  from  Lake  Champlain  after  a  tame  railway 
ride  across  the  old  estuarine  flats  of  the  St.  Lawrence;  the  one  and 
only  sensation  of  this  short  trip  consisting  in  the  traveller's  first  view 
of  the  grand  river  and  of  the  long  tubular  bridge  which  spans  it. 
The  Canadian  cities  will  not  detain  us  long,  for  we  are  flying 
homewards  now,  and  only  from  the  decks  of  the  river  and  ocean 
steamers  which  will  carry  us,  the  one  from  Montreal  to  Quebec,  the 
other  from  Quebec  down  the  St.  Lawrence  into  the  Atlantic,  shall 
we  have  an  opportunity  of  studying  a  feature  or  two  of  Canada' 
present  and  past.  But,  even  so,  there  is  something  to  be  seen  and 
said  of  the  strange  physical  events  which  prepared  alike  this  coun- 
try &nd  New  England  for  man's  use  and  occupation. 

Montreal  is  almost  as  full  of  churches  as  a  Continental  town, al- 
most as  Catholic  in  its  faith,  and  almost  as  un-English  in  its  language. 
The  traveller  is  roused  from  sleep  by  the  clang  of  church-bells,  and, 
once  in  the  streets,  finds  them  full  of  French  faces  and  re-echoing 
the  French  tongue.  The  general  appearance  of  the  city  is  neither 
American,  French,  nor  English,  but  a  curious  mixture  of  all  three. 
The  more  important  business  quarter  contains  warehouses  and  o£3ces 
like  those  of  New  York  or  Chicago,  but  the  wharves  and  quays  of 
the  St.  Lawrence  are  faced  by  houses  such  as  might  border  the  Seine, 
while  markets,  which  are  entirely  French  in  their  character,  cling, 
as  they  do  on  the  Continent,  to  the  walls  of  churches  and  public 
buildings.  The  residential  streets  and  suburbs,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  thoroughly  English  in  style,  their  detached  dwellings,  trim  lawns, 
bedded  gardens,  and  neat  fences  recalling  memories  of  home  to  every 
British  tourist.  The  numerous  churches,  although  not  without  some 
architectural  pretensions,  are  none  of  them  beautiful;  their  stained 
glass  is  poor,  and  their  altar-shrines  tinsel.  Nevertheless  there  is 
everywhere  evidence  that  the  Catholic  Church  is  rich  and  powerful 
in  Montreal,  and  that  the  French  Canadians  of  the  city  are  her  good 
and  liberal  sons. 

Notre  Dame,  the  cathedral,  has  a  fine  tower,  whence  a  capital 
view  of  the  city  offers  itself  to  all  who  have  wind  and  limb  for  the 
ascent.    I  knew  that  I  was  no  longer  in  the  States  when,  with  my 


am 


CASXDA,  PRESENT  AND  PAST. 


185 


foot  upon  the  first  step,  I  heard,  "  II  faudra  payer  ici,  s'il  vous  plait, 
monsieur."  And  the  words  stuck  by  me  when,  from  the  top,  my 
delighted  eyes  took  in  the  almost  sea-likes  weep  of  the  great  river, 
while  my  mind  asked  the  questions — Why  are  there  less  than  a  dozen 
ships  lying  at  these  ample  wharves?  Why  are  there  only  one  or  two 
grain-elevators  here,  while  there  are  scores  at  Bu£Falo,  both  cities 
tapping  with  almost  equal  advantages  the  wheat-fields  of  the  north- 
west? Why  are  there  so  few  factory  chimneys  and  so  many  church 
spires?  "  II  faudra  payer  ici,  s'il  vous  plait,  monsieur.."  It  was  the 
only  answer  that  suggested  itself,  but  the  half-mendicant  phrase 
seemed  to  indicate  a  gap,  wider  than  the  St.  Lawrence  itself,  be- 
tween the  commercial  instincts  of  French  and  Americans. 

Every  visitor  to  Montreal  must  shoot  the  Lachine  Rapids,  situated 
some  nine  miles  above  the  city,  and  it  is  easy  to  do  so  by  taking  the 
afternoon  train  to  Lachine,  and  there  embarking  in  the  steamer 
which  plies  between  Montreal  and  Ottawa.  A  few  minutes  after- 
wards the  Prince  of  Wales  enters  the  rapids  which,  in  the  first 
instance,  only  indicate  that  they  arc  rapids  by  the  smooth,  oily-look- 
ing swirls  covering  the  surface  of  the  stream.  Presently,  however, 
a  line  of  broken  water  is  seen  ahead,  extending  right  across  the 
river;  the  swirls  become  hurrying  liquid  masses,  and,  glancing  at  the 
wheel,  we  see  that  its  spokes  are  grasped  by  four  pairs  of  strong 
hands,  while  as  many  wide-open  eyes  are  intently  fixed  on  the  line 
of  breakers  in  front  of  the  vessel.  She,  quite  suddenly,  and,  as  it 
seems,  without  effort  on  the  steersmen's  part,  finds  herself  shooting 
through  a  veritable  trough,  with  an  immense  depth  of  water  under 
.  her  keel,  but  closely  hemmed  in  upon  either  side  by  great,  shelf-like 
rOcks,  which  hardly  rise  to  the  surface  of  the  racing  water.  Scarcely 
has  the  passenger  appreciated  the  skill  which  brought  his  ship  so 
deftly  into  the  very  middle  of  this  passage,  through  which,  narrow 
as  it  is,  the  bulk  of  the  St.  Lawrence  seems  to  be  rushing;  scarcely 
has  he  realized  that  this  is  the  only  notch  in  the  ledge  over  which  the 
river  here  throws  itself,  wide  enough  to  admit  the  steamer,  than  the 
latter  plunges  headlong  into  a  confused-  sea  of  angry  waves,  which 
appear  to  advance  upon  her,  roaring  and  threatening  her  destruction. 
But  they  only  appear  to  advance,  really  breaking  always  in  the  same 
spot,  and,  through  all  the  turmoil  the  Prince  of  Wales,  giving  half 
a  dozen  moderate  rolls,  easily  pushes  her  way  into  still  swift  but 
smooth  waters,  which  carry  her' quickly  to  the  wharf  at  Montreal. 

Quebec  is  one  hundred  and  eighty  miles  from  Montreal,  and  the 
trip  is  much  more  pleasantly  made  by  way  of  the  St.  Lawrence  than 
by  rail.  The  steamers,  indeed,  only  travel  by  night,  but  they  leave 
the  wharf  before  the  summer  daylight  has  quite  faded,  and,  if  the 
sky  be  clear,  the  deck  is  sure  to  prove  a  pleasant  place  to  lounge  for 
an  hour  or  two  before  turning  in.    Embarking  at  Montreal,  the 


189 


CANADA,  PRESENT  AND  PA8T. 


evening  proved  absolutely  perfect,  without  a  cloud  in  the  heavens, 
or  a  breath  of  wind  in  the  air.  The  river-banks,  which  do  but  chan- 
nel here  the  wide  estuarine  flats  of  a  past  time,  arc  low  and  unin- 
teresting, so  that  little  was  lost,  so  far  as  the  scenery  of  the  shore  is 
concerned,  as  the  sun  withdrew  his  light.  But  when  he  was  gone 
the  coloring  of  both  the  river  and  sky  became  almost  indescribably 
beautiful.  The  heavens,  for  a  great  distance  around  the  zenith,  ap- 
peared of  the  darkest  violet  tinge,  which  gradually  paled  to  a  cold 
steely  gray  on  the  horizon,  save  where  this  was  painted  in  the  west 
with  gold  and  saffron,  between  whose  softly  gradated  tints  it  was 
impossible  anywhere  to  draw  a  distinguishing  line.  The  surface  of 
the  river  was  glassy  smooth,  except  for  certain  slowly  moving,  rip- 
pled patches,  where  the  shining  water,  touched  by  the  finger-tips 
of  wandering  zephyrs,  trembled  no  less  gently  than  a  maiden  at  the 
first  soft  kiss  of  her  lover.  Such  smooth  and  gentle  undulations  as 
radiated,  in  widely  separated  lines,  from  the  moving  steamer  towards 
the  banks  on  either  side,  were  brought  into  view  only  by  the  magic 
of  color.  The  slopes  of  their  neur  flanks  reflected  the  saffron  and 
gold  of  the  west,  while  beautifully  blended  violets  and  grays  gleamed 
from  the  farther  sides  of  their  crests.  Meanwhile,  the  ship's 
wake,  overshadowed  by  the  dense  smoke  issuing  from  the  funnels, 
looked  almost  awful  in  its  garment  of  gloomy  purples.  Presently, 
as  the  yellow  in  the  west  faded,  the  northern  horizon  became  lighted 
\fith  a  pale  aurora,  changing  the  tints  of  the  water-ridges  to  steel-gray 
on  one  side  and  pearly  white  on  the  other,  while  the  stars,  brighten- 
ing in  the  violet  sky,  shot  wavering  arrows  of  light  across  the  heaving 
mirror  of  the  stream. 

Quebec,  like  Montreal,  is  a  French  town,  "but  more  so."  It  is 
built  on  a  tongue  of  elevated  land  which,  forming  the  left  bank  of 
the  St.  Lawrence  for  several  miles,  completely  dominates  the  river 
at  this  point.  The  loftiest  part  of  the  hetdland,  three  hundred  and 
thirty  feet  above  the  sea,  is  crowned  witli  the  fortifications  of  the 
citadel.  These  occupy  about  forty  acres,  and  are  considered  to  make 
the  "Gibraltar  of  America"  quite  impregnable.  Just  below  the 
citadel,  and  almost  surrounding  it,  is  the  upper  town,  itself  enclosed 
with  walls;  and  below  these,  built  on  a  margin  of  flat  land  which 
environs  the  rocky  promontory,  is  the  lower  town.  This  is  devoted 
to  business,  and  consists  of  narrow,  winding  streets,  crowded  with 
shops  and  offices,  for  the  most  part  bearing  French  names,  and  by 
no  means  imposing  in  appearance.  The  upper  town  contains  many 
buildings  belonging  to  great  religious  societies,  while  the  remaining 
surface,  where  not  occupied  by  fortifications,  is  covered  with  quaint 
old  French  houses,  generally  many  stories  high,  and  roofed,  like  the 
churches  and  public  buildings  of  Lower  Canada,  with  shining  tin. 
"Dufferin  Parade,"  the  promenade  of  the  upper  town,  is  two  hun- 


m 


CANADA,  PBBSENT  AKD  PAST. 


187 


dred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  stream,  and  thence  the  banks  of  the 
St.  Lawrence  are  seen  to  be  lined  for  miles  with  great  "  bays  "  filled 
with  timber,  while  the  summer  visitor  is  unlucky  if  ho  do  not  catch 
a  glimpse  of  more  than  one  of  the  huge  rafts  which  are  constantly 
bringing  lumber  down  from  tributary  streams. 

A  few  miles  from  the  city  are  the  Heights  of  Abraham,  the  scene 
of  Montcalm's  defeat  and  Wolfe's  victory,  and  the  grave  of  both 
commanders.  A  modest  column  marks  the  spot  where  Wolfe  fell, 
and  another,  placed  in  the  governor's  garden,  commemorates  the 
great  Frenchman.  It  was  a  bold  stroke,  that  expedition  against 
Quebec,  which  brought  to  a  close,  happy  for  England,  but  happier 
for  America,  the  hundred  years'  war  between  the  English  and  French 
in  America.  William  Pitt  had,  indeed,  resolved  not  merely  to  foil 
the  ambition  of  Montcalm,  but  to  destroy  French  rule  in  the  New 
World  altogether;  so  while  Amherst,  as  we  have  seen,  was  driving 
the  French  from  lakes  Qeorge  and  Cham  plain,  Wolfe  was  sent  out 
from  England  in  command  of  eight  thousand  men,  with  the  special 
object  of  reducing  Quebec,  then  the  strongest  fortress  in  the  world. 

Wolfe,  although  a  hero  and  a  genius,  totally  failed,  at  first,  to  draw 
Montcalm  from  his  inaccessible  fastness,  and  lay  for  six  weary  weeks 
inactive,  sick,  and  almost  despairing  in  his  camp  on  the  St.  Lawrence, 
opposite  the  citadel.  At  last  he  discovered  a  steep  and  narrow  path 
which  led  from  the  shore  to  the  Heights  of  Abraham,  a  path  which, 
indeed,  demands  good  legs  and  lungs  on  the  part  of  such  peaceful 
tourists  as  now  scale  it  unopposed.  Sending  Captain  Cook  (after- 
wards so  famous  as  a  navigator)  to  make  a  feigned  attack  elsewhere, 
Wolfe  dropped  down  the  river  in  boats  to  the  path  in  question.  He 
was  himself  the  first  to  leap  ashore  and  scale,  by  the  help  of  crags 
and  bushes,  the  steep  trail  where  two  men  could  not  go  abreast,  and 
at  daybreak  on  the  13th  of  September,  1759,  his  whole  force  stood  in 
orderly  formation  on  the  plateau.  Had  Montcalm,  even  then,  re- 
mained in  his  fortress,  all  might  have  been  well  with  him.  but  ho 
chose  to  come  out  and  fight  the  English  in  the  open,  and  was  de- 
feated. "  The  fall  of  Montcalm  and  the  submission  of  Canada  put 
an  end  to  the  dream  of  a  French  empire  in  America.  In  breaking 
through  the  line  with  which  France  had  striven  to  check  the  west- 
ward advance  of  the  English  colonists,  Pitt  had  unconsciously 
changed  the  history  of  the  world.  His  conquest  of  Canada,  by  re- 
moving the  enemy  whose  dread  knit  the  colonists  to  the  mother 
country,  and  by  throwing  opien  to  their  energies,  in  the  days  to  come, 
the  boundless  plains  of  the  West,  laid  the  foundations  of  the  United 
States."* 

It  was  blowing  furiously  as  the  steamship  P&lprusian,  leaving 
Quebec  with  passengers  and  mails  on  board,  turned  her  head  tow- 
•  "  A  Short  History  of  the  EngliBh  People"  (Green). 


'^I' 


^ 


188 


OAVADk,  TKESEOn  AND  PAST. 


ards  the  Atlantic,  to  meet  great,  crested,  sea-green  waves  marching 
in  stately  rows  up  the  wide  reaches  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  But  it  be- 
came calm  before  evening  fell,  and  again  I  watched  the  play  of 
purples,  golds,  and  grays  upon  the  undulations  radiating  from  our 
steamer's  bows,  while  a  crescent  moon  hung  above  the  blue-black 
silhouette  of  the  Laurentide  mountains. 

This  range,  probably  the  oldest  in  the  world,  divides  the  St.  Law- 
rence from  Hudson's  Bay,  and  stretches  from  Lake  Superior  to  the 
Atlantic.  It  stands  about  two  hundred  miles  removed  from,  and 
runs  parallel  with,  the  river,  whose  northern  banks  are  formed  by  its 
magnificent  mountain  shoulders,  hero  covered  with  forest,  there 
gashed  by  torrents  or  rough  with  crags.  Only  one  large  tributary, 
the  weird  Saguenay,  pours  its  clear  black-brown  waters  through  a 
profound  gash  in  the  Laurentides,  into  the  green  St.  Lawrence,  such 
other  streams  as  flow  from  the  northern  watershed  being  for  the 
most  part  cataracts.  Nor  is  the  right  bank  of  the  river  deficient 
in  grand  mountain  features,  for  the  same  Alleghaniun  folds  which 
traverse  the  Eastern  States  here  hem  the  stream  so  closely  that  their 
tributaries  are  seldom  more  than  twenty  miles  in  length.  Next  to 
the  ocean-like  volume  of  the  lower  St.  Lawrence,  nothing  surprises 
the  traveller  more  than  its  comparatively  narrow  valley.  The  crests 
of  the  ranges  which  bound  it  on  either  side  are  both  visible  from  the 
deck  of  the  steamer,  and  one  asks,  in  momentary  forgetf ulness  of 
the  five  great  lakes,  and  of  Niagara's  outpour— Whence  all  the 
wealth  of  waters  hurrying  through  this  trough-like  channel  to  the 
sea? 

The  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence  are  bordered  with  many  con- 
spicuous terraces,  which  rise  in  successive  levels,  from  the  water's 
edge  to  heights  of  several  hundred  feet.  These  are  the  greater  coun- 
terparts of  the  river  terraces  of  New  England,  which,  in  view  of 
their  practical  importance  no  less  than  of  their  geological  interest, 
deserve  something  more  than  a  passing  glance.  The  cultivable  sur- 
faces, whether  of  Canada  or  northeastern  America,  have  certain  not- 
able features  in  common.  They  are  uniformly  flat  in  the  valleys, 
whose  sides  are  as  uniformly  terraced,  while  great  rocky  masses  here 
and  there  heave  themselves  like  islands,  so  to  speak,  above  the  level 
sea  of  soil.  But  for  this  fertile  garment,  which  only  partially  wraps 
the  stony  skeleton  of  Canada  and  New  England,  man  could  find  no 
home  in  these  countries,  where  he  can  but  cling  to  the  skirts,  instead 
of  making  the  bosom  of  mother  earth  all  his  own.  What  and 
whence,  then,  is  this  hospitable  table,  spread,  as  if  by  art  itself,  evenly 
over  the  hollows  and  shoulders  of  adamantine  hills,  themselves  in- 
capable of  nourishing  anything  but  the  hardiest  forests  or  feeding 
other  than  the  wild  forest  creatures? 

Arable  soil  may  have  one  of  two  origins.    It  may  result  from  the 


CANADA,  PBE8ENT  AKD  PAST. 


189 


slow  decomposition  of  the  rocky  crast  of  the  globe,  which  moulderp 
superficially  into  beds  of  earth  under  the  influence  of  the  oxygen, 
carbonic  acid,  and  moisture  of  the  atmosphere;  or  the  rocks  them- 
selves may  be  broken  and  ground  to  powder  by  the  action  of  me- 
chanical forces,  their  debrii  transported  from  the  higher  to  the  lower 
grounds  and  distributed  in  a  variety  of  ways.  In  the  former  case, 
there  will,  of  course,  be  a  certain  coincidence  of  the  actual  surface 
with  that  of  the  subjacent  but  undecomposcd  rock,  while  both  rock 
and  soil  will  have  the  same  chemical  composition.  The  earthy  cover- 
ing of  many  countries,  as,  for  example,  the  southern  states  of  Amer- 
ica, France,  Italy,  and  Spain,  have  been  thus  produced,  but  not  so 
the  soils  of  northeastern  America.  A  glance  at  the  northern  bank  of 
the  St.  Lawrence  will  demonstrate  that  there  is  no  relation  whatever 
between  the  contoura  of  the  Laurentides  and  the  level  terraces  which 
they  support,  while  the  soils  everywhere  remain  nearly  uniform  in 
character,  although  the  rocks  upon  which  they  lie  may  be  granitic 
here,  slaty  there,  and  calcareous  elsewhere.  Hence  we  are  obliged 
to  conclude  that  the  fruitful  earth  of  these  regions  has  resulted  from 
the  trituration  of  rocks  foreign  to  the  district  in  which  they  are  found, 
and  that  the  debrit  has  been  transported  from  its  place  of  origin  by 
some  powerful  mechanical  agent.  I  say  powerful,  because  immense 
numbers  of  bowlders,  some  of  which  are  of  enormous  dimensions, 
requiring  great  force  to  remove  them,  have  been  carried  away  and 
arc  mixed  with  the  finer  detritus. 

Indications  of  such  transport  are  found  all  over  eastern  America, 
which,  from  the  Arctic  circle  down  to  latitude  40'  N.,  is  covered 
with  stratified  and  unstratified  drift,  consisting  here  of  sand,  there 
of  clay,  and  elsewhere  of  bowlder-trains.  Wherever  found,  these 
deposits  evidence  that  the  moving  agent  operated  in  a  north  and 
south  direction,  the  material  of  which  they  are  composed  being  al- 
ways derived  from  rocks  lying  to  the  northward. 

There  are  only  two  natural  agents  capable  of  effecting  displace- 
ments of  this  kind,  viz.,  icebergs  and  glaciers.  The  former  are 
enormous  masses  of  ice  which,  breaking  off  from  the  ends  of  polar 
glaciers  that  descend  to  the  sea,  are  floated  by  currents  towards  the 
equatorial  regions  of  the  globe.  They  cany  immense  quantities  of 
rock  and  earth  upon  their  surfaces,  and  when  they  melt  distribute 
these  at  random  over  the  ocean-bottom.  Glaciers,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  solid  rivers  of  ice  which  descend  the  valleys  of  such  mountains 
as  are  capped  with  perpetual  snow,  and  erode  th^m  in  their  passage. 
The  hardest  rocks  are  broken  off  and  worn  by  the  friction  of  the 
ice-river,  which  carries  immense  quantities  of  d^>ris  imbedded  in  its 
bottom  parts,  as  well  as  the  detritus  that  falls  upon  its  upper  surface 
from  rocks  rising  above  the  ice.  Surfaces  over  which  the  glacier 
passes  become  smoothed,  and  even  polished,  by  its  friction,  while 


190 


CANADA,  FRE8BNT  AND  PAST. 


they  are  worn  into  the  mammillated  forms  known  as  rochet  mou- 
ionnit,  and  at  the  same  time  grooved  and  scratched  by  the  stones 
imbedded  in  the  moving  ice. 

Has  the  arable  soil,  with  its  contained  bowlders,  been  transported 
from  more  northerly  latitudes  by  icebergs  or  by  glaciers?  Tho 
former  is  impossible,  if  only  for  the  following  reason.  Drift  is 
found  at  very  great  heights  upon  many  mountains,  as,  for  example, 
on  Mount  Washington,  the  dominating  peak  of  the  White  Moun- 
tains, where  it  reaches  an  elevation  of  six  thousand  feet  above  sea- 
level.  Now,  if  this  drift  were  brought  into  its  present  position  by 
Icebergs,  Canada  must  once  have  been  covered  by  an  ocean  at  least 
six  thousand  feet  deep,  or  such  a  sea  as  would  have  extended  from 
Hudson's  Bay  to  Pennsylvania  in  the  south,  and  to  Winnipeg  on  tho 
west.  But  among  all  the  many  remains  of  old  terraces  to  be  found 
at  different  levels  all  over  the  country  in  question,  not  one  is  more 
than  five  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  a  fact  which  disposes  of  tho 
idea  that  Canada  was  ever  covered  by  an  ocean  deep  enough  to  float 
icebergs  over  the  summits  of  the  White  Mountains. 

There  remain  the  glaciers,  of  whose  existence  and  prodigious  pro- 
portions the  whole  of  northeastern  America  furnishes  proofs.  All 
the  mountains,  whether  of  Canada  or  New  England,  are  true  roehea 
moutonnes,  and  have  their  surfaces  everywhere  covered  with  grooves 
and  scratches,  which,  for  the  most  part,  run  from  north  to  south. 
These  glacial  strioe  arc  found  on  the  summits  of  some  of  the  highest 
mountains,  and  even  at  heights  of  six  thousand  feet  above  the  sea- 
level.  There  is,  indeed,  no  escaping  the  conclusion  that  the  whole 
of  northeastern  America  was  once  covered  with  an  ice-sheet  of  im- 
mense thickness,  which  moved  slowly  over  the  face  of  the  country 
from  the  north  towards  tho  south.  The  ice  was  probably  not  less 
than  eleven  thousand  feet  thick  on  that  part  of  the  Laurentide  range 
which  abuts  upon  the  Atlantic,  where  precipitation  was  greatest.  It 
thinned  gradually  on  the  watershed  as  this  trended  westward,  but 
remained  an  immensely  high  and  dominating  crest  of  ice  which,  so 
to  speak,  deluged  the  whole  country  south  of  it,  flowing  in  a  sheet 
of  constantly  diminishing  but  still  vast  thickness  towards  that  part 
of  the  Atlantic  now  called  the  Sound.  The  natural  escape  for  tho 
Canadian  ice-sheet  would  appear  to  be  the  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence, 
but  not  only  was  this  outlet  completely  filled  with  ice,  but  it  was 
precisely  about  its  mouth  that  the  glacier  was  highest,  and  this,  con- 
sequently, sloped  towards  tho  continent  instead  of  towards  the  At- 
lantic. 

The  mechanical  effect  of  this  moving  mass  of  ice  upon  the  surface 
of  northeastern  America  was  immense.  The  glacier  exercised  a 
pressure  of  more  than  a  thousand  pounds  per  square  inch-,  it  broke 
off,  rubbed,  and  rounded  the  superficial  rocks,  pudied  its  way  along 


CANADA,  PRKSBNT  ASD  FAST. 


191 


the  valleys,  carrying  with  it  all  such  soils,  the  result  of  antecedent 
decomposition,  as  they  contained,  and  transporting  an  incalculable 
mass  of  deM$  of  all  kinds.  This  was,  for  the  most  part,  lodged, 
not  on  the  surface  of  the  ice-sheet,  through  which  only  the  tops  of 
the  highest  hills  protruded,  but  in  its  lower  parts,  which  were 
crowded  with  soil,  stones,  and  rubbish.  As,  century  after  century, 
this  inconceivably  powerful  mechanical  agent  swept  slowly  over  the 
surface  of  the  country,  meeting  rocks  of  very  various  degrees  of 
hardness  in  its  passage,  it  dug  more  deeply  into  the  soft,  and  less 
deeply  into  the  hard,  portions  of  its  bed,  and  so  produced  the  count- 
less lake-beds  which  characterize  the  glaciated  district.  The  river 
valleys,  especially  those  which  ran  north  and  south,  were  also  greatly 
modified  by  the  erosive  action  of  the  ice,  and  their  beds  were  deep- 
ened to  an  extent  which  would,  in  some  cases,  be  quite  inexplicable 
but  for  the  hypothesis  of  the  continental  glacier. 

It  is  known  that  North  America  was  covered  with  forests  before 
the  advent  of  the  'ce-sheet,  and  it  therefore  becomes  interesting  to 
inquire  into  the  cause  of  the  great  refrigeration  of  climate  involved 
in  the  phenomenon  of  the  glacial  epoch.  Many  answers  have  been 
given  to  this  question,  answers  which  we  have  nut  time  to  recapitu- 
late, and  still  less  to  sift,  but,  at  least,  there  is  no  doubt  that  one  of  the 
most  powerful  of  the  causes  in  question  was  the  greater  elevation  of 
northern  North  America  in  glacial  times.  The  Laurentide  range 
rose  io  such  heights  that  its  summit  became  covered  with  perpetual 
snow.  Glaciers  began  to  form  everywhere  upon  its  flanks,  and  in- 
creased in  volume,  little  by  little,  until  they  covered  the  greater  part 
of  British  North  America.  Finally,  these  glaciers,  becoming  con- 
fluent, attained  the  prodigious  thickness  and  spread  to  the  immense 
distances  already  cited. 

But,  after  a  time,  the  movement  of  elevation  characterizing  the 
glacial  epoch  was  first  checked,  then  arrested,  and  lastly  reversed. 
This  was  the  commencement  of  the  "Cham plain  period,"  or  the  be- 
ginning of  the  end  of  the  Age  of  Ice.  As  the  mountains  gradually 
lost  their  great  height,  snowfalls  were  as  gradually  exchanged  for 
rainfalls,  the  neve  ceased  to  accumulate,  and  the  foot  of  the  conti- 
nental ice-sheet  began  to  retreat.  The  climate  becoming  milder  at 
the  same  time,  the  ice  melted  faster  as  less  of  it  remained,  and  drowned 
almost  the  whole  country  in  immense  floods  of  water.  The  lakes 
and  rivers  of  the  Champlain  period  became  of  prodigious  magnitude, 
while  the  inundations  in  question  were  aggravated  by  the  continued 
subsidence  of  the  land.  In  the  course  of  time,  lakes  Erie,  Ontario, 
and  Superior  formed  one  vast  internal  sea;  the  Mississippi  basin  was 
in  the  same  condition,  and,  as  we  have  already  seen,  an  immense  arm 
of  the  sea  covered  the  whole  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence  and  extended 
over  Lake  Champlain  itsell 


m 


CANADA,  PBBSBNT  AKD  PAST. 


Meanwhile,  as  the  ice  retreated,  its  contained  masses  of  earth  and 
stones  were  deposited  at  random  on  the  surface  of  the  country,  only 
to  become  submerged,  either  in  the  great  inland  seas  of  fresh  water, 
or  in  arms  of  the  ocean  which  everywhere  began  to  invade  the  coun- 
try. Here  they  were  sorted,  rearranged,  and  deposited  ir  beds  of 
clay,  sand,  or  of  sand  and  bowlders  mixed,  according  as  the  water 
was  still,  running,  or  torrential.  Thus  the  immense  arable  plains 
which  line  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence  were  accumulated,  and 
the  same  origin  may  be  ascribed  to  all  the  rich  river-bottoms  of  New 
England. 

As  for  the  terraces  of  drift  which  mount,  step  by  step,  to  heights 
of  five  hundred  feet  on  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  highest 
of  them,  like  their  smaller  representatives  on  New  England  streams, 
are  but  the  remains  of  deposits  of  the  Champlain  age,  laid  down  at  a 
time  when  the  quantity  of  water  escaping  from  the  ice,  together  with 
the  subsidence  of  the  land,  were  both  at  their  maxima.  Later  on, 
a  second  upheaval  of  the  continent  took  place.  The  ocean  withdrew 
to  its  present  level,  the  lakes  emptied  themselves  of  their  surplus 
waters,  and  the  rivers,  digging,  with  more  powerful  streams  than 
those  of  the  present  day,  through  the  detritus  which  filled  their  val- 
leys, scooped  out  their  existing  beds,  leaving  upon  their  banks  the 
terraces  which  witness  to  their  earlier  and  prodigious  volume.  Con- 
cluding this  short  sketch  of  the  origin  of  arable  soil  in  Canada  and 
New  England,  we  arrive  at  the  present  or  "recent"  period  of  the 
geologist,  having  reviewed  a  lapse  of  time  which  sober  estimates 
measure  by  at  least  two  hundred  thousand  years.  Such  was  the 
character  of  Nature's  preparations  for  the  use  and  occupation  of 
North  America  by  man,  whose  way  in  the  New  World  has  been 
smoothed  for  him  chiefly  by  ice. 

But,  some  reader  may  ask,  is  not  this  story  a  work  of  the  imagi- 
nation, a  pure  fancy,  having  no  solid  basis  in  fact?  Well,  we  are 
out  upon  the  Atlantic  now,  the  blue  Laurentides,  with  their  softly 
rounded  contours  and  stair-like  terraces,  are  left  far  behind,  and  al- 
ready we  have  passed  the  snow-crowned  coasts  of  Labrador,  Anti- 
costi,  and  Newfoundland.  Although  it  is  mid- July,  a  cold  sea  is 
under  our  keel,  a  biting  wind  nips  us  on  deck,  and,  night  after  night, 
we  shiver  while  we  watch  and  wonder  at  the  arch  of  pale  aurora 
crowning  the  northern  sky.  Yet  we  are  scarcely  north  of  the  lati- 
tude of  London,  and  only  a  few  degrees  south  of  us,  the  Adriatic,  as 
we  learn  later,  is  enduring  tropical  heat  while  measuring  steps  with 
us  on  the  voyage  from  New  York  to  Liverpool.  Meanwhile  ceriaia 
conclusive  answers  to  the  question  I  have  put  in  the  reader's  mouth 
come  upon  us  unawares.  It  was  on  July  10th,  in  lat.  50°  41'  N., 
and  long.  58°  2'  W.,  that  the  Polynesian  fell  in  with  a  train  of  mag- 
nificent icebergs,  floating  majestically  with  the  polar  current  right 


CANADA,  PBBSBiri  AND  PAST. 


108 


athwart  our  course.  The  day  was  cloudless,  the  sea  calm,  and  fbr 
more  than  eight  hours  we  continued  to  review  the  fleet  of  the  ice- 
king,  passing  southward  to  its  certain  destruction  in  the  warm  waters 
of  the  Gulf  Stream.  Of  the  unspeakable  beauty  which  these  bergs 
displayed,  of  their  fantastic  pinnacles,  awf  1:1  precipices,  and  massive 
bases,  as  of  their  heavenly  azures  and  opals,  I  am  not  concerned  to 
speak,  and  could,  certainly,  make  no  adequate  picture.  But,  at 
least,  1  can  report  that  many  of  these  floating  masses  of  ice  towered 
more  than  two  hundred  feet  above  the  water,  while  the  total  height 
of  some  bergs  was  probably  not  far  short  of  two  thousand  feet. 
Yet  they  were  only  the  wasted  children  of  Greenland's  ice-cliffs, 
themselves  a  remnant  of  the  old  continental  glacier,  which  still  caps 
that,  country  with  a  sheet  of  ice  several  thousand  feet  in  thickness. 
Pall-like  as  that  covering  is,  it  conceals  no  dead  continent,  but 
swathes  in  its  white  folds,  as  with  a  mysterious,  chrysalid  robe,  an- 
other America,  which  Nature  is  preparmg  for  the  use  of  future 
man. 

9 


e  imagi- 
we  are 
r  softly 
and  al- 
►r,  Anti- 
sea  is 
ir  night, 
aurora 
lati- 
itic,  as 
sps  with 
certain 
mouth 
41'  N., 
mag- 
it  right 


THE  END. 


MP 


BOOKS  ON  NEW  ENGLAND. 


LODGE'S  ENGLISH  COLONIES  IN  AMERICA.  A  Short  History 
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my 


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Practices,  Numbers,  Industries,  and  Present  Condition.  By  Charles 
NoRDHOFF.     Illustrated.     8vo,  Cloth,  $4  00. 

Mr.Nordhoff  has  derived  his  materials  from  personal  observation,  having  vis- 
ited the  principal  Communistic  societies  in  the  United  States,  and  taken  diligent 
note  of  the  peculiar  features  of  their  religions  creed  and  practices,  their  social  and 
domestic  customs,  and  their  industrial  and  financial  arrangements.  *  *  *  With  his 
exceptionally  keen  powers  of  perception,  and  bis  habits  of  practised  observation, 
he  could  not  engage  in  such  an  inquirv  without  amassing  a  fund  of  cnrions 
Information.  In  8ts'.ing  the  results  of  his  investigations,  he  writes  with  exem- 
plary candor  and  impartiality,  though  not  without  the  exercise  of  Ju<»t  and  sound 
discrimination.— y.  F.  2Vtbune. 

CAPE  COD  AND  ALL  ALONG  SHORE:  STORIES.  By  Charles  Nord- 
HOFF.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  60 ;  4to,  Paper,  16  cents. 

Light,  clever,  well-written  sketches.— JV.  F.  i''4ne». 

A  lively  and  agreeable  volume,  full  of  humor  and  incident.— Boston  Tranteript. 

GOD  AND  THE  FUTURE  LIFE.  The  Reasonableness  of  Christianity. 
By  Charles  Nordhoff.    ]6mo.  Cloth,  $1  00. 

Mr.  Nordhoff's  object  is  not  so  mnch  to  present  a  religious  system  as  to  give 
practical  and  suMcient  reasons  for  every-dny  beliefs.  Ho  writes  strongly,  clearly, 
and  in  the  vein  that  the  people  understand.— Boston  Herald. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  Nkw  Yobk.^ 

^^  HABna  A  Bbothkrs  voill  eend  fht  above  teorke  by  maU,  potOage  prepaidy  to  any 
part  of  th»  United  Statee  or  Canada,  on  receipt  if  the  price. 


BOOTS  AND 


U. 


) 


Or,  Life  in  Dakota  with  General  Custer.  By  Mrs.  Eliz- 
abeth B.  CusTBB.  With  Portrait  of  General  Cnster. 
pp.312.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

A  book  of  adventure  is  interesting  reading,  especially  when  it  is  all  true, 
as  is  the  case  with  "  Boots  and  Saddles."  *  *  *  She  does  not  obtrude  the 
fact  that  sunshine  and  solace  went  with  her  to  tent  and  fort,  but  it  in- 
heres in  her  narrative  none  the  less,  and  as  a  consequence  "  tliese  simple 
annals  of  our  daily  life,*'  as  she  calls  them,  are  never  dull  nor  uninterest- 
ing.— Evangdiit,  N.  Y. 

Mrs.  Custer's  book  is  in  reality  a  bright  and  sunny  sketch  of  the  life 
of  her  late  husband,  who  fell  at  the  battle  of  "  Little  Big  Horn."  •  •  • 
After  the  war,  when  General  Custer  was  sent  to  the  Indian  frontier,  his 
wife  was  of  the  party,  and  she  is  able  to  give  the  minute  story  of  her 
husband's  varied  career,  since  she  was  almost  always  near  the  scene  of 
his  adventures. — Brooklyn  Union. 

We  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  no  better  or  more  satisfactory  life 
of  General  Custer  could  have  been  written.  Indeed,  we  may  as  well 
speak  the  thought  that  is  in  us,  and  say  plainly  that  we  know  of  no  bio- 
graphical work  anywhere  which  we  count  better  than  this.  *  *  *  Surely  the 
record  of  such  experiences  as  these  will  be  read  with  that  keen  interest 
which  attaches  only  to  strenuous  human  doings ;  as  surely  we  are  right 
in  saying  that  such  a  story  of  truth  and  heroism  as  that  here  told  will 
take  a  deeper  bold  upon  the  popular  mind  and  heart  than  any  work  of 
fiction  can.  For  the  rest,  the  narrative  is  as  vivacious  and  as  lightly  and 
trippingly  given  as  that  of  any  novel.  It  is  enriched  in  every  chapter  with 
illustrative  anecdotes  and  incidents,  and  here  and  there  a  little  life  story 
of  pathetic  interest  is  told  as  an  episode. — N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiter. 

It  is  a  plain,  straightforward  story  of  the  author's  life  on  the  plains  of 
Dakota.  Every  member  of  a  Western  garrison  will  want  to  read  this 
book ;  every  person  in  the  East  who  is  interested  in  Western  life  will 
want  to  read  it,  too ;  and  every  girl  or  boy  who  has  a  healthy  appetite 
for  adventure  will  be  sure  to  get  it.  It  is  bound  to  have  an  army  of  read- 
ers that  few  authors  can  expect. — Philadelphia  Press. 

These  annals  of  daily  life  in  the  army  are  simple,  yet  interesting,  and 
underneath  all  is  discerned  the  love  of  a  true  woman  ready  for  any  sacri- 
fice. She  touches  on  themes  little  canvassed  by  the  civilian,  and  makes  a 
volume  equally  redolent  of  a  loving  devotion  to  an  honored  huisband,  and 
attractive  as  a  picture  of  necessary  duty  by  the  soldier. — Commonwealth, 
Boston.  

Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  N.  Y. 

49"  Haspkb  3i  Bbotb*b8  ibUI  tend  th*  above  work  b]/  mail,  postage  prmaU,  to  anu 
part  of  the  United  Statu  or  Canada,  on  receipt  efthe  prfee. 


/ 


/ 


Snggestions  as  to  their  Manufaoture  and  Use.   By  Hbnbt 
.  P.  Wblls.    Illustrated,    pp.  864.    Post  8yo,  Illumi- 
nated Cloth,  $2  50. 

Hr.  Weill  has  defoted  more  time  and  attention  tp  the  materiala  used  in 
fly-fiahing  than  any  person  ve  know  of,  and  his  experience  is  well  set  forth 
in  this  most  valuable  book.  *  *  *  The  author  is  an  amateur  ^•niikeir  who 
has  experimented  with  every  wood  known  to  rod  manufacturers,  as  wilt  as 
with  somlB.  that  are  not  known  to  them,  and  therefore  he  is  an  undoubted 
authority  on  the  subject.  This  chapter  and  the  one  following,  whl(^  {^ves 
directions  in  rod-making,  forms  the  most  perfect  treatise  on  rods  extant ; 
*  *  *  The  book  is  one  of  great  value,  and  will  take  its  place  as  a  standatd 
authority  on  all  points  of  which  it  treats,  and  we  cannot  commend  it  tqo 
highly.— -Fom*  and  Stream,  N.  Y.  ;• 

since  Izaak  Walton  lingered  over  themes  piscatorial,  we  have  leimed  to 
expect;  in  all  essays  on  the  gentle  art  of  angling,  a  certain  daintinesa  atod 
elegance  of  literary  form  as  well  as  technical  utility.  Publisher  and  anthiMr 
have  co-operated  to  meet  these  traditional  requirements  in  "Fly-fiods  »k' 
lly-Tackle."  *  *  *  Mr.  Wells's  competence  to  expound  the  somewhat  iii- 
tricate  principles  and  delicate  processes  of  fly-fishing  will  be  plain  to  any 
reader  who  himself  has  some  practical  acquaintance  with  the  art  discussM* 
The  value  of  the  author's  instructions  and  suggestions  is  signally  enhandSf 
by  their  minuteness  and  lucidity. — If.Y.Stm. 

A  complete  manual  for  the  ambitious  lover  of  fishing  for  trout.  *  *  *  All 
lovers  of  fly-fishing  should  have  Mr.  Wells's  book  in  their  outfit  for  the 
sport  that  is  near  at  han^.-—^iladfilpMa  Bulletin. 

An  illustrated  volume,  elegantly  presented,  that  will  make  all  anglers 
jealous  of  possession  until  upon  their  shelf  or  centre-table.  It  is  a  book 
of  .suggestion  as  to  the  manufacture  and  use  of  all  kinds  of  fisiing-appa- 
ratus. — Boston  Conimonwealth. 

Mr.  Wells  reveals  to  us  the  mysteries  of  lines,  leaders,  and  reels,  rods, 
rod  material,  and  rod-making.  He  lets  us  into  the  secret  of  mdribig  rito 
pairs,  and  ^ves  all  due  directions  for  casting  the  fly.  *  *  *  More9ver,Kr. 
Wells  writes  in  an  attractive  style.  There  is  a  certain  charm  in  the  ^(0IM$> 
ihess  and  grace  wherewith  he  expresses  his  appreciation  of  those  \)efMm» 
of  nature  which  the  angler  has  so  unlimited  an  opportunity  of  diiiiyi^ 
Thus  what  may  be  called  not  only  a  technical,  but  aW  a  scientific  kiidw{- 
edge  of  his  subject  is  combined  with  a  keen  delight  in  hill,  stream,  uidfbr- 
est  for  the  sake  of  the  varied  loveliness  th^  diiqptay.—- iVT  Y.  lhU!girtm.'r 

A  book  of  praetiotl  hints  about  the  mairafactuce  and  Use  of  anglers* 
tfear.  Fish-hooks,  lines,  leaders,  rods :  and  rQd-nM(k.iiig)»  lepairp,  flieii,^,!^;^ 
ly-fishuig,  are  among  the  important  subjects  discusjied  with  great  txAnamM 
The  essay  on  "  Casting  the  Fly "  and  '*  Miscellaneous  ^QuggesUons  "  are 
ri<^'in  points  for  beginners.  It  is  to  the  latter,  and  not  to  the  expet;til^ 
i^t  Mr.  Wells  modestly  dedicates  hb  work.  His  object  is  to  suppIy'^ptS^ 
cisely  the  kind  of  information  of  which  he  stood  so  much  in  need  doraiig 
his  own  novitiate.— JV''.  Y.  Journal  of  Comnuree. 

PcBUSBsi^  BT  HABPEB  h  BBO;rHERS,  Nkw  YoBx.  ^ 

Hg' The  al»vevnrhmUliy  mtiitpoiutgepr^aidttawn^  fart  (^UttUviUABMm    ' 
orOcmaiifOnreeilptitfthtprtee, 


